CIRCLE  K 

OR 


^IfV^INX^SA 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/circlekorfightinOOsabirich 


BY    EDWIN    L.    SABIN 

BAR    B    BOYS:  or,  The  Young  Cow  Punchers 
RANGE   AND  TRAIL  .   or,  The  Bar  B*s  Great  Drive 
THE  CIRCLE  K :  or,  Fighting  for  the    Flock 
Each,  cloth,  8vo.     $1.50 

BEAUFORT  CHUMS,     lamo.    75  cents 

Each  volume  JtiUy  illustrated 


"  Edwin  L.  Sabin  writes  books  for  boys  in  a  way 
that  Idi'&cvadA^stytTy'boy"— Journal 0/ Education. 


THOMAS  y.  CROWELL  COMPANY 


See  p.    153. 

THE  SHARP  REPORT,  AND  THE  GREAT  LEAP  OF  THE 
COYOTE." 


THE  CIRCLE  K 


OR 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  FLOCK 


BY 

EDWIN  L.  SABIN 

AUTHOR  or   "  BAR  B   BOYS,"   "  RANGE  AND  TRAIL,"  ETC. 


Oh,  I  want  to  be  a  sheepman, 

An'  run  a  woolly  band  ; 
Some  wool  upon  my  whiskers, 

A  sheep-hook  in  my  hand. 

Haney  the  Texan's  Song. 


NEW   YORK 

THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPTRIOHT,  1911, 

B¥  THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY. 


BUNCH  OF  CHAPTERS 


CHAPTER 

I.  The  Gathering  of  the  Flocks 

II.  Drifting  with  the  Storm    .     . 

III.  An  Old  Acquaintance    .     .     . 

IV.  The  Shearing  of  the  Sheep    . 
V.  Big  Ben  the  Mormon  .... 

VI.  The  Great  Shearing  Match    . 

VII.  Lambing  Range  Warnings  .     . 

VIII.  More  Warnings     ..... 

IX.  Kitty,   the   Dog 

X.  Coyotes,  Sheep  and  Outlaws  . 

XL  Again  an  Old  Acquaintance  . 

XIL  The  Scourger  of  the  Flock    . 

XIII.  A  Comedy  and  a  Tragedy    .     . 

XIV.  Bad  News  from  the  Box    .     . 
XV.  The  Sheepman's  Shot.  .     .     . 

XVI.  A  Little  Surprise  Party    .     . 

XVII.  When  Lambs  lose  their  Tails 

XVIII.  The  Rider  of  the  Flock  .     .     . 

XIX.  A  Meeting  on  Ptarmigan  Flats 

XX.  Ephraim  comes  for  Mutton    . 

XXL  Grizzly  Dan  on  the  Trail    . 

XXII.  The  Smiting  of  the  Lame  Man 

XXIII.  Back  to  the  Lowlands    .    .    . 


PAGE 

I 

14 
32 

44 
56 
70 

85 

lOI 

116 
127 
140 

152 
163 

173 
184 
200 
222 

237 
250 

260 

286 
299 


Mi3734 


PICTURE   TRAIL 

From  Drawings  by  Clarence  Rowe 

"  The    sharp    report,    and    the    great    leap   of   the 

coyote" Frontispiece 

GPP.  PAGE 

"  In  the  midst  of  the  vast,  blending  blackness  and 

whiteness" 28 

**  Tossing  up  the  fleeces  to  a  man  who  was  filling  the 

sack " 52 

"  He  lifted  it  and  threaded  his  way  out  of  the  herd  "  .  1 08 

"  Mr.  Adams  grappled  the  man  with  the  limp"      .     .  180 

"  '  Hold  up  your  hands  ! '  ordered  Chet  "      .     .     .     .  212 

"  The  great  beast  rose,  standing  on  his  hind  feet"     .  270 

**  Down  they  plunged,  Grizzly  Dan  ahead  "  .     .     .     .  284 


THE   FLOCK 

Band  of  Old  Ones: 

Phil  Macowan — Back  again  in  the  Sage  and  Cedars 

Chet  SiMMS-::::His  Tentmatc  over  the  Woollies 

Mr.  §imms — Ex-Cowman,  who  is  forced  into  Sheep 

Old  Jess — The  Old  Puncher  reduced  to  punching  Burros 

Haney  the  Texan — Red-headed  as  of  Yore 

Ford   o^    Harvard — Still   making   good    in    the    Range 

Country 
Hombre  the  Mexican — Who  knows  Sheep  as  well  as 

Hosses 
Buster — Who  hates  Sheep  as  Badly  as  Ever 
Hungry  Joe — Who  thinks  he  has  become  a  Cowboy 
The  Bullet-headed  Sheepman — Sassy  and  Stubborn  as 

Before 
Pete  the  Cook — Promoted  to  be  Guide 
Sheriff  of  Blanco  County — On  the  Trail  Again. 
Cherry — Who  pays,  a  Little  Visit 
The  Professor — Her  Father 
The  Man   with,  the   One  Eye — Who  finds  that  the 

Wages  of  Sin^is  Death 
The   Man    with   the*  LiMP — Who    is   smitten   in   his 

Triumph 
Charley  Pow-wow — The  Ute,  alsp  on  the  Trail  Again 
Horses — Medicine  Eye,  Pepper,  Lady,'  Monte,  and  just 

a  few  others  of  the  old  Bar  B'Herd     *" 

Band  of  New  Ones: 

Gus— Wyoming  Herder,  Many  Years  with  Sheep 
Kitty — His  Dog 

Luis — Californian  Herder  and   Champion   Shearer 
BoNiTA — His  Dog 

Big  Ben — Shaggy  Mormon  Shearer,  and  Champion 
Mr.  Admun — Wbose  Pens  will  shear  60,000  Sheep 
Billy  Adams — Box  Herder,  and  Liyiger  from  Yale 
Saddle  X.  Rider — The  Spy  in  the  Camp. 
Sheriff  of  Rico  County— Small  Outside  but  Big  Inside 
Molly  Gibson — Who  finds  the  West  So  Romantic 
Grizzly  Dan — Old-Time  Trapper,  who  was  with  Fre- 
mont 
The  Brown-Legged  Rascal,  The  Old  Black-Face  Fool, 
Twins,  Bums,  and  Other  Circle  K  Sheep 

BOOK  CAMPS 

The    Mesa    Sage    Country    and    the    High    Mountain 
Plateaus 


THE  CIRCLE  K 

CHAPTER  I         '-'   ;,  i     !''/;'.' 
THE   GATHERING   OF   THE   FLOCKS 

Spring  had  come  to  the  Western  sheep  range,  and 
throughout  all  the  wide  domain  of  sage  and  sky  the 
sheep  were  moving.  From  an  airship  poised  high 
above,  anyone  with  eyes  to  see  might  have  witnessed  a 
wondrous  sight;  for  across  the  vast  gravelly  plains 
of  Montana  and  Wyoming,  the  rolling  dun  reaches  of 
Utah  and  the  whitish  sands  of  New  Mexico,  through 
the  billowy  brush  of  Oregon  and  Idaho,  and  amidst 
the  rocky  mesas  and  the  aspen  vales  of  southwestern 
Colorado,  thousands  upon  thousands,  in  close-packed 
column  after  column,  as  a  great  woolly  army  were 
trailing  steadily  onward,  under  sun  and  dust,  the 
sheep,  in  annual  pilgrimage  from  the  low  deserts  of 
winter  to  the  lofty  plateaus  of  summer.  Behind,  in 
their  sturdy  canvas-topped  wagons,  or  ahorse,  or 
trudging  afoot,  followed  the  guardian  herders — ^hard- 
worked,  silent  men,  accustomed  to  solitude,  but  glad 
now  to  be  exchanging  the  winter  monotony  for  the 
shearing  pens  and  the  lambing  range. 

About  where  Colorado  and  Utah  join,  the  sage- 
brush sheep-land  had  been  basking  for  two  weeks 
in  the  April  sun.     Gently  rolling,  grayish-green  with 


2  THE    CIRCLE    K 

the  sage  and  umber  with  the  soil  of  clay  and  gravel, 
with  its  buttes  and  its  flat-top  mesas  or  "  tables " 
hazy  and  mysterious  like  battlemented  fronts  of 
Indians'  happy  hunting-grounds,  league  after  league 
it  lay, .face  upward  to  the  soft  sky.  The  heavy  snows 
of  January,  February  and  March  had  melted  away 
'-save  as.  ihey  were  held  packed  in  the  hollows,  or  as 
they  lingered  in  patches  and  streaks  on  the  bluish 
ridges  of  bald  mountains  far  distant.  The  sage  and 
grease-wood  were  greening  at  their  tips,  and  the  run- 
ning sap  was  scenting  the  warm  air  with  its  whole- 
some aroma. 

Through  the  brush,  the  stiff  branches  of  which 
rasped  against  the  stirrup  leathers,  this  afternoon  are 
riding  three  figures.  The  man's  name  is  Simms.  His 
face  is  lean  and  rather  stern  but  not  displeasing,  and 
is  bronzed  with  the  weathers  of  many  years  in  the 
open ;  he  has  a  hawklike  nose,  a  grayish  moustache  and 
goatee.  He  sits  his  long-stirruped,  high-horned  sad- 
dle with  the  perfect  ease  of  a  cowman.  One  of  the 
boys — in  old  overalls  and  jumper,  with  the  honest, 
freckled,  round  face  and  wide  blue  eyes — is  Chet 
Simms ;  the  other,  in  the  new  overalls,  the  old  jumper, 
and  with  face, tanned  not  at  all,  is  Phil  Macowan. 
However,  he  is  no  greenhorn  on  the  range,  despite  his 
town  pallor.  He  has  ridden  before  with  Mr.  Simms 
and  Chet,  in  the  Bar  B  outfit  on  the  Owl  Creek  cow 
range,  and  last  year  he  was  in  that  famous  long  drive 
of  the  Bar  B  cattle  from  New  Mexico  up  into  Colo- 
rado. 

But  now  he  was  about  to  turn  sheep-herder — a  call- 


THE    GATHERING   OF    THE    FLOCKS      3 

ing  which  had  been  drummed  into  him  as  being  be- 
neath the  dignity  of  any  cowboy.  The  old  Bar  B  had 
taken  up  sheep.  Chet's  news  of  the  change  had 
astounded  him,  and  after  his  winter  at  home  he  had 
come  out  again  to  see  for  himself. 

*'  I  can't  get  it  through  my  head,  yet,"  he  was  say- 
ing. 

"  We've  shed  our  chaps,  boy,"  quoth  Mr.  Simms. 
*^  We've  gone  into  sheep  and  overalls.  When  those 
Eastern  capitalists  last  fall  started  their  reservoir  up 
in  Cathedral  Park  they  spelled  the  doom  of  the  Bar 
B  range — yes,  and  of  the  Lazy  J,  too.  All  that  region 
where  you  and  Chet  and  the  other  men  (Phil  liked  that 
w^ord  "men  ")  rode  after  cows  will  be  under  ditches, 
in  a  year  or  two,  and  fenced  by  ranchers.  There 
won't  be  any  open  range,  except  on  the  forest  reserve 
— and  sheep  are  crowding  that.  We'll  all  have  to 
turn  ranchers;  whether  I'll  make  a  sheep-man  first  I 
don't  know,  but  I'll  try  it." 

"  That  reservoir  is  to  be  right  where  we  camped,  at 
Coyote  Springs,  during  the  round-up,  after  Pete  had 
shot  the  man  with  the  frozen  smile,"  explained  Chet. 

"  Where  I  got  this  rifle,"  affirmed  Phil.  He  and 
Chet  each  rode  with  a  rifle  under  the  leg. 

"  Yes,  and  where  Cherry  joined  us,"  supplemented 
Mr.  Simms. 

Thus  each  had  spoken  of  what  appealed  to  him  the 
most.  Chet  was  for  the  shooting  of  the  rustler,  Phil 
for  the  rustler's  gun  which  he  had  won,  and  Mr. 
Simms  for  the  girl  whom  they  had  rescued  out  of  the 
rustlers'  hands. 


4  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"  Pshaw !  '*  Phil  sighed  regretfully.  It  seemed  a 
pity  that  the  country  of  cattle  wild  and  half  wild,  of 
wild  horses  and  wild  beasts  and  even  of  wild  men  was 
to  be  gentled  and  turned  into  farms.  "  Where  are  we 
going  now  ?  " 

"  We'll  meet  our  sheep,  coming  in  to  the  shearing 
pens." 

"  Are  Haney  and  the  rest  with  you?  "  Phil  asked 
hopefully. 

"  Haney  and  Ford,  and  Old  Jess  and  Hombre ;  and 
weVe  got  a  couple  of  new  men." 

"Where's  Buster?" 

Mr.  Simms  laughed. 

"Oh,  Buster  balked.  He  almost  wanted  to  fight 
me  because  I  invited  him  along.  He's  with  some  cow 
outfit  over  north  of  us  here.    He  and  Hungry  Joe." 

"  Hungry  Joe !  "  Phil  recalled  Hungry  Joe — the 
cadaverous  greenhorn  who  had  been  engaged  as  wran- 
gler for  the  horse-herd  or  remuda  on  the  trail  up  from 
New  Mexico  last  summer,  and  whose  imagined  dys- 
pepsia and  very  real  appetite  had  much  amused  the 
camp.    "  So  he's  cow-puncher,  is  he  ?  " 

"  Kind  of." 

"  He's  not  any  good,  though,"  asserted  Chet. 

"  Will  Cherry  be  out  this  summer?  " 

"  We  don't  know  yet." 

"  She  says  maybe  we'll  see  her,"  put  in  Chet.  "  She 
signs  herself  Cherry  to  us;  doesn't  she  to  you?  " 

"  She  says  she's  Cherry  in  the  West,  even  if  she 
does  have  to  be  Gwen  out  East  in  Oklahoma,"  con- 
tinued his  father. 


THE  GATHERING  OF  THE  FLOCKS   g 

'  "  Where  are  the  man  with  the  one  eye  and  the 
man  with  the  limp?  " 

"  Foley  the  one-eyed  man  was  sent  to  the  peniten- 
tiary for  life,  but  they  let  the  man  with  the 
limp  go;  and  he's  the  worst  of  the  two/'  informed 
Chet. 

*'  He  turned  state's  evidence,"  explained  Mr. 
Simms.  "  He  swore  the  other  fellow  shot  that  bristly 
man.  Cherry  sent  in  her  report,  but  she  couldn't  tell, 
it  was  done  so  quick.  So  they  gave  him  a  clean  bill 
of  health,  and  told  him  to  skin  out ;  and  he  did.  He's 
slippery.  Seem  to  me  there  are  influences  backing 
him.  But  he'd  better  not  show  himself  in  our  coun- 
try," and  Mr.  Simms'  face  settled  grimly.  He  had 
scores  to  square  with  Joe,  the  lame  man,  rustler,  and 
general  outlaw. 

"  There  are  the  sheep,"  added  Mr.  Simms,  nodding 
briefly  ahead. 

Above  a  sagy  swell  before  w^as  floating  a  thin  cloud 
of  dust,  through  which  the  sun  struck  golden;  con- 
fused and  murmurous  was  wafted  to  their  ears  a 
multitude  of  baas;  but  the  sheep  themselves  were  on 
the  other  side. 

"Ours,  dad?"  queried  Chet. 

"  Think  they  must  be.  We're  the  first  over  the  line, 
I  hear." 

The  three  rode  on.  Phil's  heart  sank.  He  had  seen 
sheep  before  and  didn't  like  them.  He  didn't  know 
exactly  why  he  was  opposed  to  them ;  only,  it  had  been 
the  fashion  with  the  Bar  B  and  other  cow  outfits  to 
scold  about  sheep  and  sheep-men  whenever  the  topic 


6  THE   CIRCLE    K 

arose.  There  seemed  to  be  nothing  glorious  in  at- 
tending sheep;  nothing  glorious  and  free,  as  in  the 
cowboy's  daily  work. 

"  It's  the  crowd,"  remarked  Mr.  Simms,  as 
they  themselves  topped  the  swell,  and  looked  down 
from  it. 

"  I  see  Haney  and  Ford !  "  exclaimed  Chet. 

In  a  compact  rectangle,  broadside  front,  two  hun- 
dred yards  wide  and  one  hundred  deep,  a  mass  of  sheep 
were  being  driven  down  the  brushy  draw  beyond  the 
swell.  Three  herders  on  horseback  were  behind  and 
at  the  flanks,  and  a  dog  was  scampering  hither  and 
thither,  from  flank  to  flank.  His  yapping,  and  the 
voices  of  the  men  mingled  with  the  uninterrupted 
baaing,  uprose  to  the  three  spectators  halted  on  the 
brow  above. 

"  Aw,  sheep ! "  exclaimed  Chet,  in  great  disgust. 
"  What  did  you  get  'em  for,  dad  ?  Don't  you  say  so, 
Phil?  We're  cow-punchers;  we  don't  day-herd 
woollies." 

"  Yes,  you  do.  You  day-herd  them  and  night- 
herd  them  too,  if  you  work  for  me,"  reproved  his 
father,  sharply.  "  You'll  find  that  being  cow-boy  is 
not  the  only  man's  job  in  the  West.  There's  plenty 
of  good  hard  work  in  handling  sheep — and  plenty  of 
spunk  required,  too.  You'll  earn  your  thirty-five  or 
forty  a  month — and  more  that  you  won't  get.  So  I 
want  you  to  quit  despising  sheep.  I've  too  much 
money  in  them  to  despise  them,  myself.  It's  poor 
policy  to  complain  of  the  bridge  that  carries  you  over." 

Chet  giggled. 


THE  GATHERING  OF  THE  FLOCKS   7^ 

"  But  think  of  Haney  and  Ford  being  sheep- 
herders.    I  wish  Buster  was  here." 

They  rode  on  down.  As  they  drew  near,  one  of  the 
herders  waved  a  big  black  hat  and  vented  a  shrill  cow- 
boy yell  of  welcome.  His  bright  red  hair  fairly 
gleamed  in  the  setting  sun,  his  almost  equally  red  face 
glowed. 

"  Howdy,  Smith-Jones,"  he  called,  to  Phil. 
"  Gwine  to  tuhn  sheep-jingler,  too?" 

This  was  Haney,  the  Texan.    Phil  grinned  back. 

"  Sure,"  he  said. 

"  Smith- Jones'll  keep  the  bears  off,"  announced 
Haney,  generally,  his  freckled  countenance,  where  in 
spite  of  thin,  firm  lips  and  decisive  aquiline  nose  good- 
humor  shone,  perfectly  sober.  "  Terrible  man  with  a 
gun,  is  Smith-Jones." 

Ford,  the  Bar  B  rider  from  Boston  and  Harvard, 
rode  across  and  shook  hands  with  Phil. 

**  Back  on  the  range  again,  are  you,  boy?"  he 
greeted.    "Well,  what  do  you  know  about  sheep?" 

"  Nothing,"  answered  Phil,  promptly. 

"  So  do  I,"  confessed  Ford.  He  was  a  good-look- 
ing young  man,  with  crisp  dark  moustache,  even  white 
teeth,  and  clean-shaven,  firm  chin.  "  But  they  haven't 
bit  me  yet,  so  we're  getting  acquainted." 

The  boys  and  Mr.  Simms  fell  in  behind  the  drive  as 
it  proceeded.  Trotting,  pacing,  jostling  and  baaing, 
the  sheep  flowed  through  the  brush.  They  must  have 
numbered  three  thousand.  There  were  black  faces  and 
brown  faces  and  white  faces,  black  legs  and  brown  legs 
and  white  legs,  and  a  sprinkling  of  animals  all  black. 


8  THE    CIRCLE    K 

The  dust  stirred  up  by  their  pattering  hoofs  drifted 
back,  and  bore  with  it  a  peculiar  musky,  unpleasant 
odor. 

"  Where  do  we  camp,  Gus  ?  "  shouted  Mr.  Simms, 
to  the  third  herder  whom  Phil  had  been  eyeing 
covertly. 

A  spare,  angular,  flat-featured  man  was  this  Gus, 
evidently  one  of  the  new  hands.  He  had  thin,  faded 
yellow  moustache,  faded  blue  eyes,  tanned  but  faded 
skin,  and  seemed  to  be  a  Scandinavian.  He  sat  his 
saddle  with  a  slouch;  his  flapping  drab  hat  was  rag- 
ged, his  blouse  and  overalls  and  shoes  were  ragged, 
his  tow  hair  ragged. 

"  Jess  says  he  would  meet  us  at  Rock  Creek,"  re- 
sponded Gus. 

'*  That  the  other  bunch,  following  ?  No  other  sheep 
have  come  over  yet,  have  they?  " 

"  Haven't  heard  of  any,  except  the  Box." 

"  Yes ;  they  shear  right  after  us.  Come  on,  boys. 
Let's  ride  and  see  the  rest  of  our  stock." 

He  wheeled  his  horse,  the  boys  imitated,  and  at  a 
lope  they  obliqued  through  the  sage,  making  for  an- 
other cloud  of  golden  dust  which  showed  against  the 
farther  side  of  the  draw,  and  to  rearward.  But  this 
dust  was  drab  and  not  golden;  for  the  sun  instead  of 
setting,  had  sunk  into  a  bank  of  heavy  cloud.  A  chilli- 
ness stole  through  the  air,  and  Chet  turned  up  the 
collar  of  his  blouse. 

"  That  man  dad  called  Gus  is  from  Wyoming,"  he 
said.  "  He  savvies  sheep.  He's  been  herding  for 
about    ten    years,    now.      Did    you    see    the    dog? 


THE  GATHERING  OF  THE  FLOCKS  g 

She's  a  prize  sheep-dog.  Gus  wouldn't  take  five 
hundred  dollars  for  her.  We've  got  a  California 
herder,  too,  with  this  other  bunch.  He's  half 
Indian." 

The  baaing  of  the  second  band  was  plainly  distin- 
guishable. Two  herders  were  driving  these  sheep, 
which  seemed  not  quite  so  many  as  those  of  the  first 
band.  One  of  the  herders  waved  his  hand.  This  was 
Hombre,  the  sunny  Mexican. 

"Don't  try  to  ride  through  the  sheep;  go  'round 
them,"  warned  Mr.  Simms,  as  followed  by  Chet,  Phil 
obliqued  over. 

"  Com.'  la  va,  Meester  Plieel  ?  "  greeted  Hombre, 
gaily.  "You  come  herd  sheeps,  too?  Lots  of  fun, 
hey? "  He  was  a  swarthy  little  man,  with  black  eyes 
and  flashing  teeth. 

"  Not  more  fun  than  herding  horses,  though,  is  it, 
Hombre  ?  "  answered  Phil. 

"  No.  Fust  bosses,  den  cows,  den  sheeps.  I  t'ink 
I  like  bosses  best.  Luis,  he  like  sheeps.  He  always 
been  with  sheeps.  He  from  California.  He  talk 
Mexicano  good  as  me." 

Phil  observed  the  other  new  man — Luis  the  Cali- 
fornian.  He  was  a  lithe,  olive-skinned  and  smooth- 
skinned  man,  in  flaming  red  shirt  of  silky  material, 
evidently,  and  an  enormous  high-peaked,  rolling 
brimmed  hat  banded  with  silver;  a  hat  larger  than 
Haney's  and  more  peaked  than  Hombre's.  He  sat  his 
horse  very  straight,  with  stirrups  behind  rather  than 
forward  of  the  line  of  the  body.  His  saddle  had  large 
shaggy  goat-hide  pockets,   on  either  side  just  back 


lo  THE    CIRCLE    K 

of  the  cantle.  Phil  recognized  it  as  a  California 
saddle. 

"  Push  'em  ahead,  Hombre — ^you  and  Luis," 
ordered  Mr.  Simms.  **  Shouldn't  wonder  if  it 
snowed."  He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  We  want  to 
get  both  bands  fed  and  bedded  in  time;  a  storm  will 
make  bad  work." 

"  It  is  going  to  snow,  all  right,"  declared  Chet. 
"  Say,  but  it's  getting  cold,  isn't  it!  Let's  put  on  our 
coats." 

They  did.  Like  a  general  upon  other  commands 
bent,  Mr.  Simms  was  galloping  on,  circuiting  the  sheep 
and  heading  down  the  draw. 

"  Come  on,"  bade  Chet,  with  his  old  familiar  invita- 
tion. "  He's  looking  for  Jess  and  the  burro  train. 
They've  got  the  tents  and  things.  Jess  is  camp  tender, 
you  know." 

The  chilliness  in  the  air  had  increased;  the  atmos- 
phere had  thickened.  After  the  balmy  warmth  of 
the  day  the  change  was  surprising.  The  coats  which 
the  boys  had  donned  felt  decidedly  good.  They  fol- 
lowed Mr.  Simms,  passing  between  the  two  bands  of 
sheep,  out-stripping  the  foremost,  and  continuing,  at 
invigorating  pace,  through  the  sage. 

"  I  see  him!  "  cried  Chet.     ''  Don't  you?  " 

Winding  down  the  sagy  slope  before  plodded  a 
number  of  burros,  with  a  horseman  behind. 

"It's  Old  Jess  and  the  burros,  all  right.  Dad'll 
beat  us,  though.  Come  on,"  and  with  a  whoop  of 
encouragement  Chet  spurred  his  horse  into  a  run, 
Phil  spurred  after.     That  was  good— to  be  racing 


THE    GATHERING    OF    THE    FLOCKS    ii 

through  the  brush  and  the  boundless  open  again. 
Presently  Chet  pulled  to  a  walk,  and  Phil  overtook 
him. 

"  I  believe  this  Medicine  Eye  could  beat  Pepper,  in 
a  straight-away,"  said  Chet.  "  They  used  to  run  him 
at  country  fairs;  he's  some  racer." 

"  He  shore  is,"  admitted  Phil,  broadly — not  with- 
out a  qualm  of  sympathy  for  Pepper,  who  was  his 
favorite  horse  on  the  cattle  range.  "  What  other 
hawsses  did  you  keep  ?  " 

"  Oh,  just  Monte  and  Thunder  and  that  Lady  hawss 
you  traded  your  pinto  for  last  spring,  and  a 
few  others.  Don't  need  many  hawsses  for  herding 
sheep.  Don't  use  hawsses  at  all,  while  sheep  are  lamb- 
ing." 

Mr.  Simms  had  intercepted  the  burro  train,  and 
was  riding  along  with  the  driver.  The  boys,  now 
trotting  and  leaning  forward  on  the  saddle  horns  to 
ease  themselves,  caught  up,  and  Phil  met  another  of 
his  cow-range  comrades — Old  Jess,  with  leathery, 
wrinkled  face,  shoulders  slightly  stooped,  and  joints 
stiffened  by  rheumatism.  A  veteran  who  had  ridden 
the  Texas  trail  in  the  old  days,  was  Jess,  and  a  charac- 
ter to  be  reckoned  with.  But  his  punching  days 
practically  were  over ;  in  the  winters  he  had  cooked  at 
the  Bar  B  ranch-house,  until  the  weather  urged  him 
forth  into  the  saddle  again. 

"  How  are  yuh,  lad  ?  "  he  said.  "  Glad  to  see  you. 
I'm  jack-driver  now.  You  aren't  lookin'  for  the  Texas 
trail  again  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly;  but  I'd  like  to  find  it." 


12  THE   CIRCLE    K 

'*  So  would  I.  Yuh  didn't  get  enough  last  summer, 
then?  Well,  you'll  get  yore  belly  full  o'  sheep, 
mebbe." 

"  Do  you  think  it  will  snow,  Jess  ?  "  queried  Chet, 
anxiously. 

"  Might.  My  rheumatism  says  so,"  answered 
Old  Jess. 

*'*  Better  now  than  after  shearing,"  said  Mr.  Simms. 
But  he  looked  worried.  "  Better  not  at  all,  though.  If 
we  get  a  wet  snow  and  it  freezes  on  the  wool  some- 
body'll  lose  some  sheep.     Is  this  the  creek?" 

"  Yes.  Ride  ahead,  you  boys,  and  turn  those  jacks 
so's  we  can  unpack  'em." 

At  sight  of  the  aspens  lining  the  water  course  or  at 
smell  of  the  water  the  leading  burro  of  the  long  single 
file  had  broken  into  a  trot ;  and  now  the  whole  line  was 
trotting  and  galloping  on,  with  toss  of  head  and  ir- 
ritable kick  of  heel.  Before  the  boys  could  turn  them 
they  had  crowded  to  the  stream ;  here  they  drank,  and 
rubbed  packs  and  bit,  and  sidling  through  the  trees 
tried  to  rid  themselves  of  their  burdens. 

"  Get  out  o'  there !  "  yelled  Chet. 

"Hi!"  yelled  Phil. 

They  forced  the  animals  into  the  open — where 
each  persistently  backed  around,  impatiently  present- 
ing himself,  hindside  first,  on  the  edge  of  the  group, 
that  he  might  be  unpacked.  They  were  smart, 
these  burros. 

"  Wait,"  said  Chet ;  as  dismounting  Phil  started 
to  fumble  at  the  knots  of  a  pack,  for  his  ranch  and 
range  training  had  taught  him  to  go  ahead  and  do 


THE    GATHERING   OF    THE    FLOCKS    13 

things.  *'  There'll  be  two  camps,  and  we  don't  know, 
which  stuff  is  for  which." 

But  Old  Jess  soon  solved  this  difficulty,  when  he 
arrived. 

"  You  strip  the  packs  off  these  three  jacks,"  he  di- 
rected, as  he  dropped  a  tie  rope  from  the  neck  of  each, 
for  the  boys  to  pick  up ;  "  and  George  and  I'll  drive 
the  rest  up  a  ways,  to  the  other  camp.  Turn  'em  loose 
when  you're  done." 

It  was  rather  heavy  work,  stripping  all  those  packs. 
There  were  two  tents,  a  couple  of  camp  stoves  with 
jointed  stove  pipes,  quilts  and  blankets  for  bedding, 
and  several  boxes  of  canned  stuff  and  other  pro- 
visions, and  cooking  utensils.    They  made  quite  a  pile. 

"  Jess  is  a  good  packer,  all  right,  isn't  he !  "  praised 
Chet.  "  We  just  unloosen  one  end  of  the  rope  and 
the  w^hole  thing's  loose." 

"  Is  that  the  diamond  hitch?  "  asked  Phil. 

"  Naw.  It's  some  other  kind  of  a  hitch  Jess  in- 
vented. He  says  it's  better  than  the  diamond,  and 
isn't  so  hard  to  throw." 

The  instant  that  they  were  relieved,  each  burro  gave 
a  profound  sigh,  and  walking  a  few  steps  rolled.  Then 
he  jumped  up,  shook  himself  like  a  dog,  and  sedately 
w^andered  away,  smelling  along  and  browsing. 


CHAPTER  II 

DRIFTING   WITH    THE   STORM 

Two  tents  were  set  up  here,  and  a  third  tent  was 
set  up  further  down,  where  Mr.  Simms  and  Old  Jess 
had  unpacked  the  rest  of  the  animals.  For  the  two 
bands  did  not  come  in  together,  the  sheep  which 
Haney,  Ford  and  Gus  were  driving  were  turned  above 
the  two  tents,  the  second  band  was  obliqued  below  the 
single  tent. 

"  Here's  where  we  stay,*'  quoth  Chet.  "  We'll  be 
with  the  first  bunch/' 

The  sheep  of  both  bands  crowded  to  the  creek  edge, 
which  spread  out  into  bogginess;  and  after  drinking 
they  hastened  to  browse  on  the  new  sage  and  on  the 
grass  up-springing  everywhere.  The  horses  were  un- 
saddled and  unbridled,  and  from  the  baggage  hobbles 
were  abstracted  and  buckled  upon  fore-legs.  So  that 
soon  the  horses  also  were  drinking  and  grazing. 

By  this  time  the  sun  was  behind  the  western  mesas  ; 
the  damp  chilliness  so  pronounced  that  the  boys  could 
see  their  breath.     It  was  an  April  change. 

But  the  camps  were  preparing  for  the  night.  The 
tents  had  been  stretched,  the  bedding  thrown  inside, 
and  from  the  projecting  stovepipes  the  bluish  fume  of 
burning  sage  was  streaming  into  the  heavy  air.  On 
the  outskirts  of  each  band  of  sheep  hovered  a  herder, 

'4 


DRIFTING   WITH    THE    STORM         15 

with  his  dog,  watchful  that  the  sheep  did  not  stray 
over-far.  They  seemed  pesky  things,  these  baaing, 
nibbling  sheep,  always  edging  out,  seeking  a  better 
spot,  until  the  herder  must  walk  quickly  and  shout,  or 
the  dog  must  go  at  a  run  and  rush  them  back. 

"  You  boys  might  pile  up  more  sage ;  get  the  dry, 
dead  stuff,"  remarked  Ford,  who  was  cooking  in 
one  of  the  two  tents.  Old  Jess  was  cooking  in 
the  other.  "  It's  liable  to  be  all  covered  up  by  morn- 
ing." 

''  Yes,  suh;  move  araound  and  you'll  keep  wahm," 
commented  Haney,  who  was  sorting  over  the  supplies, 
getting  out  a  tarpaulin.  "  An'  pity  the  pore  sheep- 
herder.'^ 

"  You  used  to  say  *  Pity  the  pore  caow-boy/  "  re- 
minded Phil  slyly. 

''  Pity  the  pore  sheep-herder  worse,'*  said  the  Texan, 
staunchly.  *'  Sheep  get  mad  and  are  liable  to  bite 
him." 

Which  w^as  some  of  Haney's  sober  nonsense. 

The  sage  was  quickly  gathered,  by  ax  and  by  hand ; 
many  of  the  stalks  were  as  large  as  one's  wrist,  and 
must  be  chopped  off,  and  all  must  be  broken  and 
chopped  again,  into  short  pieces  to  fit  the  stove.  The 
collection  was  stowed  under  a  corner  of  the  tarpaulin 
which  Haney  had  spread  over  the  supplies. 

"  Let's  go  over  and  see  Hombre  a  minute,"  proposed 
Chet.     "  Supper  isn't  ready  yet." 

They  trudged  down  to  the  other  camp.  Hombre 
was  cooking  here ;  he  showed  his  white  teeth  in  a  wide 
smile  of  welcome. 


i6  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"  Come  een,  come  een,"  he  bade.  "  I  cook  chile  con 
carne.    You  stay  ?  " 

''Can't  stay/'  said  Phil.  "Just  thought  we'd 
call." 

"  Luis,  he  puttin'  sheeps  to  bed,"  informed  Hombre 
— whose  real  name  was  Manual,  but  who  was  always 
called  "Hombre,"  or  "man."  "They  tired;  after 
they  drink  an'  eat  they  go  to  sleep,  mebbe.  If  beeg 
storm  come,  we  have  trouble,  though." 

"  Hombre's  herded  sheep  before ;  haven't  you, 
Hombre?"  stated  diet. 

"  Si.  Lots  times,  down  in  New  Mexico  where  I 
lived.  Sheeps  good;  make  most  money.  One  man  I 
know  he  start  with  five  sheeps,  and  in  five  years  he 
have  ten  t'ousand." 

"  That's  heap  sheep,"  mused  Phil. 

"  Aw,  not  so  many,"  corrected  Chet.  "  The  Burns 
outfit  southwest  of  here  run  fifty  thousand.  But  dad 
bought  only  five  thousand." 

"  When  lambs  come,  den  we  have  more  t'ousand," 
proffered  Hombre. 

"When  is  that?"  queried  Phil. 

"  Little  while  now.  Few  come  right  away.  After 
shearin'  den  we  go  on  lambin'  range.  Lots  to  do  there. 
Leesten !    Coy-o-te." 

Through  the  dusky  chill  quavered  a  shrill,  yappy 
howl ;  the  sheep  dogs  barked  back,  from  the  two  bands 
where  they  were  working.    The  sheep  baaed. 

"  Is  he  after  the  sheep  ?  "  exclaimed  Phil,  excited. 

"  Si.  Coy-o-te  like  sheeps.  Like  lambs  better.  I 
don't  t'ink  he  bother  sheeps  to-night.     Bad  night  for 


DRIFTING    WITH    THE    STORM         17^ 

coy-o-tes — bad  night  for  sheeps,  too.  Mebbe  he  follow 
us,  though.  Dog  coy-o-te  get  to  followin'  sheeps,  an' 
he  never  quit  till  he  keeled.  But  Luis  out  there  now. 
He  bed  sheeps  close  an'  coy-o-te  not  get  dem.'* 

"  I  guess  we'll  go  back.  Good-night,  Hombre," 
said  Chet.  Phil  knew  that  Chet  was  not  afraid  of 
any  coyote ;  no,  indeed.  He  and  Chet  both  had  heard 
coyotes  before;  yes,  and  the  great  gray  wolf,  too.  But 
the  chill  dusk  settling  down,  the  mutterings  of  the 
sheep,  the  sough  of  the  wind  as  it  commenced  to  blow 
in  little  gusts,  and  the  vast  sagy  waste  around  about, 
impressed  him  with  a  peculiar  loneliness,  and  probably 
impressed  the  sturdy  Chet  likewise.  Besides,  'twas 
time  to  eat  in  their  own  tent. 

"  All  right.    Good-night,  Hombre." 

"Adios.  Good-night,"  replied  Hombre,  lighting 
a  lantern  to  cook  by. 

When  they  had  crossed  the  brush  again  both  tents 
wxre  aglow;  the  pungent  smell  of  the  sage  fire- wood 
was  in  the  air.  Ford  had  supper  ready,  and  the  red- 
headed Texan  was  stretched  upon  the  bedding,  gravely 
eyeing  the  arrangements. 

"  Grub  pile,"  he  sighed.  "  Waiting  foh  you,  Smith- 
Jones.     Hear  that  coyote  ?  " 

"  Yes.    Where  was  he?    Over  here?  " 

"  Just  settin'  raound,  mouth  waterin'  'foh  mutton." 

**  There's  one  old  wether  in  that  band  I  wish  he'd 
get,"  said  Ford,  decisively.  "  It's  a  brown-legged 
brute  who's  always  sneaking  off  at  right  angles.  If 
I've  turned  him  in  once  to-day,  I've  turned  him  in 
twenty  times." 


♦ 


i8  THE   CIRCLE    K 

"  Yes,  suh,"  answered  Haney.  "  Bettuh  eat  him 
ourselves.    Grub  pile." 

"  Sure,"  spoke  Ford,  with  a  grin.  *'  Fall  to  it. 
Guess  this  coffee  has  boiled  plenty  long.  Rather  shy 
of  dishes,  but  you  eat  first  and  Gus  and  Fll  spell 
you." 

The  two  boys  and  Haney  squatted  on  the  bedding 
and  the  dirt  floor,  about  the  rude  table  fashioned  of 
a  couple  of  canned-goods  boxes.  There  were  fried 
potatoes,  fried  mutton,  canned  corn,  canned  butter, 
hot  bread  (biscuits),  sorghum,  and  coffee  with  con- 
densed milk.  Ford  and  the  little  sheet-iron  stove  had 
done  well. 

"  Yes,  suh,"  remarked  Haney,  as  if  reading  the 
thoughts.     "  This  outfit  shuah  lives  high." 

The  sides  of  the  tent  swayed  and  thumped,  as  the 
gusty  night  wind  swept  across.  In  the  midst  of  the 
feasting  the  flaps  were  drawn  aside,  and  Gus,  the 
other  herder,  entered,  silently  to  seat  himself  by  Ford 
and  extend  his  brogans  to  the  stove. 

*'  How  about  it,  Gus  ?  "  queried  Ford,  making  room. 

"  Snow,"  said  Gus,  succinctly.  His  face  was  dank, 
his  long,  tow  hair  hung  damply,  and  his  ragged  hat 
lopped.  The  boys  glanced  quickly  at  his  blouse,  but 
they  could  perceive  no  flakes  nor  drops  upon  it. 

"Already?" 

**  No,  but  it  iss  coming." 

"Sheep  quiet?" 

"  Bedded  down  all  right.     But  they  know." 

"  Liable  to  take  the  back  trail  for  Utah?  " 

"  Hardly  think  so.    They  have  been  over  dis  coun- 


DRIFTING    WITH    THE    STORM         19 

try  before.  When  we  strike  the  new  country  we  may 
have  trouble,  though.  We  have  trouble  to-night." 
He  talked  with  just  a  mere  foreign  accent. 

There  was  a  scratching  and  a  pushing  at  the  flaps, 
again;  and  in  between  them  poked  a  long,  black  nose. 
Two  shining  brown  eyes  gazed  in  inquiringly,  even 
apologetically. 

"  Get  out  of  here ! "  shouted  Gus,  instantly. 
"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  Didn't  I  leave  you 
on  guard  ?    Away  with  you !  " 

The  eyes  and  the  nose  disappeared  instantly. 

"  Poor  pup,"  commiserated  Phil. 

"  Poor  nothing !  "  responded  Gus.  "  She  iss  getting 
cold,  is  all.  She  knows  she  ought  to  stay  with  the 
sheep.    When  I  want  her  I  will  tell  her." 

He  spoke  flatly,  without  looking  around,  as  if  he 
somehow  had  resented  interference;  and  Phil  was 
rather  abashed.  But  he  swallowed  his  momentary 
chagrin,  realizing  that  he  was  the  greenhorn  in  the 
herders'  quarters.  Haney  rinsed  his  dishes;  the 
boys  followed  his  obliging  example;  and  now  it  was 
Ford  and  Gus  who  drew  up  and  ate  supper. 

The  murmurings  of  the  sheep  were  only  fitful.  Phil 
thought  upon  the  dog,  out  there  in  the  night  and 
the  cold  which  beleaguered  the  cosy  tent,  and  was 
relieved  when  Gus  stood,  saying: 

"  Let  me  take  dis  lantern  a  minute.  I  want  to  see 
to  them  sheep  again." 

He  went  out.  Ford  promptly  lighted  a  candle,  and 
fastened  it  in  its  own  grease,  upon  a  box.  He  and 
Haney  proceeded  to  clean  up  the  dishes. 


'20  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"That  Gus  is  shore  a  good  herder,  isn't  he?"  in- 
vited Chet,  with  his  best  cowboy  accent. 

''  I  reckon  so,"  responded  the  Texan. 

"Why  didn't  some  of  us  go  with  him?"  asked 
Phil. 

"  Sheep  know  him.  You  or  I  might  have  fright- 
ened them,"  explained  Ford.  "  They're  mighty  timid 
in  the  dark.    More  timid  than  cattle. 

"Yes;  he's  done  herded  sheep  so  long  he  smells 
laike  one,"  supplemented  Haney. 

Gus  returned.  The  dog  was  with  him.  Gus  took 
a  plate  of  scraps  and  set  them  outside,  and  the  dog 
set  to  work. 

"  Come  on  in  when  you  get  t'rough,  Kitty,"  ad- 
dressed the  herder.  "  You  can  go  to  bed,  old  girl." 
He  pulled  off  his  hat  and  loosened  the  dingy  blue 
handkerchief  at  his  throat,  for  the  interior  of  the 
tent  was  warm.  "Don't  know  whedder  the  rest  of 
us  can  go  to  bed  or  not,"  he  added.  "  Snow  iss  in 
the  air.     Half  the  sheep  are  up  and  half  are  down." 

"  Some  of  us  can  sleep  in  the  other  tent,"  said 
Ford. 

"  Send  Smith- Jones,"  proposed  Haney.  "  He 
needs  lots  o'  room.  Smith- Jones  does.  Fights  bears 
an*  busts  hawsses  all  night." 

"  No,  send  Haney,"  retorted  Chet.  "  He's  too 
warm  in  a  crowd.    Liable  to  set  us  all  on  fire." 

"  Shuah,"  admitted  Haney,  never  offended  by  any 
reference  to  his  ruddy  thatch.  "  Don't  need  any 
stove  where  I  am.  I'll  go  ovuh  an'  baid  daown  with 
the  bawsses.     Don't  anybody  call  me  'fob  breakfast; 


DRIFTING    WITH    THE    STORM         21 

Fm  powerful  tihud.  Moh  snow,  moh  wet,  an'  pity 
the  pore  sheep-herder." 

He  left.  Ford  had  finished  the  dishes.  The  four 
reclined  on  the  bedding;  Gus  smoked  his  pipe.  Kitty, 
the  dog,  crawled  in  under  the  canvas  and  established 
herself,  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction,  behind  the  stove. 

The  wind  soughed  mournfully;  the  tent  strained, 
subsided  and  strained  again.  The  mutterings  of  the 
sheep  had  practically  ceased.  Having  puffed  stolidly 
and  thoughtfully,  Gus  began  to  unlace  his  shoes,  as 
if  preparing  for  bed.  Ford  stuck  his  hand  out  through 
the  flaps. 

"  No  snow  yet,"  he  remarked. 

"  It  will  come,"  said  Gus.  "  See  that  foot  ?  That 
iss  what  tells  me — that  and  the  sheep.  Dey  are  both 
wedder  wised." 

He  held  out  his  right  foot.  Half  of  it  was  gone,  so 
that  the  sock  doubled  under. 

"  Oh—what  did  that?  "  asked  Phil. 

"Winter  before  last."  Without  removing  other 
clothing  Gus  stowed  himself  in  under  the  quilts. 
"  That  wass  a  hard  one.  I  wass  herding  up  in  Wyo- 
ming. For  four  weeks  the  thermometer  wass  thirty 
and  forty  below,  with  a  lot  of  windt.  I  wass  out  on 
the  Red  Desert,  with  t'ree  thousand  sheep — J  B  outfit. 
Pretty  soon  I  run  out  of  grub  and  fuel,  and  had  to  go 
somewhere.  Camp-tender  never  got  around.  Dere 
come  on  a  big  snow  and  I  had  to  round  up  the  sheep. 
They  got  to  drifting.  So  Kitty  and  I  set  out.  She 
snowed  some,  boys;  worst  blizzard  ever  I  saw;  but  I 
couldn't  lose  sheep.     I  guess  I  wass  kind  of  weak. 


22  THE    CIRCLE    K 

myself,  for  after  an  hour  or  so  I  couldn't  locate  the 
wagon.  You  know  up  there  we  live  in  wagons.  So 
I  kept  walking,  with  the  windt  so  strong  I  couldn't 
face  it.  It  killed  my  sheep.  Out  of  the  t'ree  t'ou- 
sand  we  didn't  find  t'ree  hund'red  alive.  We  were 
out  t'ree  days  and  t'ree  nights,  Kitty  and  me.  I 
reckon  the  dog  saved  me.  Whenever  I'd  fall  over 
she  would  grab  me  and  nip  me  and  bark  until  she 
had  got  me  up  again.  In  that  flat  country  a  man 
might  walk  for  a  mont'  and  more,  and  not  fetch 
against  anyt'ing;  but  I  must  have  been  half  blindt, 
for  I  was  going  right  past  another  sheep  wagon 
without  seeing  it,  when  the  herders  ran  out  and  took 
holdt  of  me." 

"  Weren't  you  frozen?  "  queried  Chet.  "  Gee!  " 
"  Well,  I  lost  half  my  foot,  after  the  doctors 
worked  over  me.  But  it  all  wasn't  so  bad  as  it 
sounds,  except  I  wass  crazy.  Along  in  the  course 
of  a  night  and  a  day  I  began  to  see  t'ings;  fine,  beauti- 
ful cities  were  right  in  my  path,  and  I  walked  through 
dem  with  women  leaning  out  of  the  windows  of  the 
houses  inviting  me  to  come  in  and  get  warm.  When 
I  would  try  the  doors  den  the  whole  wall  would  fall  on 
me,  and  I  would  find  myself  lying  face  down  in  the 
snow,  with  Kitty  nipping  and  pulling  at  me.  And  dere 
was  a  farm- wagon  keeping  just  in  front  of  me,  full  of 
pretty  little  girls  and  drawn  by  four  big  white  horses, 
all  looking  like  summer.  But  I  couldn't  catch  up 
with  it.  Once  a  sheep  wagon  came  galloping  beside 
me,  and  stopped  and  the  fellers  told  me  to  get  in. 
,When  I  went  to  climb  over  the  wheels  the  driver  hit 


DRIFTING   WITH    THE    STORM         23 

me  and  knocked  me  back  into  the  snow  again.  I 
must  have  lain  there  quite  a  while,  becauss  when  I 
come  to  I  was  half  covered  with  snow,  and  Kitty 
wass  lying  on  top  of  me  keeping  me  warm.  Then 
after  that  dere  were  devils — a  regular  pack  of  dem — 
following  me  close  and  sticking  me  with  sharp  forks, 
and  telling  me  to  walk  faster.  That  wass  good  for 
me.  When  I  wass  grabbed  by  those  herders  I  fought 
dem;  I  fought  that  wass  another  of  dose  dreams, 
and  that  if  I  went  to  climb  into  the  wagon  I  would 
only  be  knocked  flat  again.  I'd  left  my  own  wagon 
Tuesday  noon,  and  this  wass  Friday  noon.  But  I 
lost  only  half  of  one  foot;  Kitty  lost  two  toes." 

Suddenly  Phil  felt  a  great  respect  for  this  homely 
Gus,  who  had  voluntarily  risked  his  life  to  save  his 
employer's  sheep. 

"  Yes,"  mused  Gus,  turning  over  and  composing 
himself,  "that  wass  a  bad  storm.  I  know  of  two 
herders  who  never  were  found  till  spring  and  the 
snow  had  melted.  So  I  wass  lucky.  But  I  sure  wass 
sorry  to  lose  some  sheep.    So  were  the  bosses." 

"Didn't  they  do  something  for  you?"  demanded 
Ford. 

Gus  grunted. 

"  Do  ?  Yes,  dey  stopped  my  pay  while  I  wass  laid 
ofif.  Dey  all  live  in  town,  and  what  iss  a  herder 
more  or  less  compared  wuth  sheep  ?  " 

"They  aren't  all  that  way,"  declared  Chet,  in- 
dignantly.   "  Dad  wouldn't  be  that  way." 

But  Gus  was  snoring. 

Beside  Chet,   Phil  lay  re- telling  to  himself   Gus' 


24  THE    CIRCLE    K 

tale,  and  picturing  the  perils  of  the  herder  on  the 
winter  range.  Sheep  herding  took  on  a  different  as- 
pect to  him,  now;  and  he  decided  that  to  hold  down 
any  job  in  the  open  west  required  a  man  and  a  man's 
heart.  Ford  and  Chet  both  were  asleep,  with  the 
readiness  of  veterans,  ere  he  had  dropped  off,  to 
dream  of  sheep  which  persistently  leaked  past  him, 
no  matter  how  hard  he  tried  to  head  them  off. 

He  was  aroused  by  Gus,  who  had  crawled  out  from 
the  quilts  and  by  the  light  of  the  lantern  was  pulling 
on  his  brogans.    Ford  also  was  up — sitting  up. 

"  Snowing?  "  asked  Ford. 

"  Yes.  Blowing,  too.  We  have  to  hold  dose  sheep. 
Hear  dem  ?  " 

"That's  right,''  said  Ford;  and  hastily  he  pulled 
on  his  boots. 

Without  waiting  for  more  words,  Phil  too  sat  up, 
and  crawling  forward  imitated  the  others. 

"Better  stay  in  bed,  hadn't  you?"  suggested 
Ford.    "  Gus  and  I  can  tend  to  them." 

"  No;  I'll  help.    Chet  can  stay,  if  he  wants  to." 

"Uh,  uh,"  stammered  Chet,  who  heavy  with 
sleep,  nevertheless  was  struggling  from  his  warm 
nest.  "  Dad  has  us  on  the  pay-roll.  Is  it  snow- 
ing?" 

He  sought  for  his  boots. 

"What  do  we  do?"  asked  Phil. 

"  Hold  dem  if  you  can ;  stay  with  dem  if  you 
can't,"  instructed  Gus,  shortly.  "Come  on,  Kitty." 
And  parting  the  flaps  out  he  went.  The  flaps  swung, 
and  opened  and  shut,  letting  in  drafts  of  chill  air. 


DRIFTING   WITH    THE    STORM         25 

Ford  followed,  and  the  boys  staggered  after,  wrest- 
ling into  their  coats. 

The  driving  snow  immediately  enveloped  them;  a 
damp,  furious  snow  of  large  flakes  which  clung  fast 
wherever  they  struck.  Out  of  the  night  this  myriad 
host  came  streaming  incessant,  plastering  face  and 
garments,  and  carpeting  the  ground  already  half 
knee-deep.  Across  the  steady  gale  appealed  the  un- 
easy bleatings  of  sheep — the  hoarse  baas  of  wethers, 
the  higher  baas  of  the  ewes;  and  now  Kitty  was 
barking  excitedly. 

"  They're  drifting,"  called  back  Ford,  striding 
away ;  and  he  was  lost  in  the  whitish  murk. 

"  Come  on,"  cried  Chet,  forging  ahead. 

Stooping  to  cut  the  wind  and  snow  the  boys  pushed 
along,  guided  by  the  complaints  of  the  frightened 
flock. 

"  Say,  this  is  fierce,  isn't  it?  "  shouted  Chet. 

"  It  sure  is,"  agreed  Phil.  And  it  "  sure  "  was. 
His  boots  had  soaked  through  immediately;  the  snow 
was  searching  out  the  crevices  of  his  turned-up  coat- 
collar,  and  blinding  his  eyes.  The  tent  had  gone;  he 
stumbled  on  the  hidden  brush;  there  was  nothing 
before,  behind,  to  right,  to  left — nothing  but  Chet, 
faintly  outlined,  and  snow,  and  black  sky  and  white 
ground  meeting. 

Suddenly  they  encountered  a  fringe  of  sheep;  all 
the  air  was  full  of  plaintive  baaing,  as  the  distressed 
creatures,  their  wool  plastered  deep,  their  heads  held 
low,  rumps  to  the  storm,  as  if  blown  to  leeways  swept 
slowly  but  steadily  along,  down  the  gale. 


■26  THE   CIRCLE    K 

"  You  stay  with  these.  I'll  find  some  others," 
bade  Chet,  instinctively,  out  of  his  range  training, 
doing  the  right  thing.     "  See  you  later." 

He  trudged  at  once  out  of  sight;  the  streaming 
flakes  swallowed  him,  and  Phil  was  left  with  the 
sheep. 

At  first  he  tried  to  stay  them,  by  hurrying  back 
and  forth  across  their  front,  and  shouting  and  scold- 
ing. But  he  might  as  well  have  tried  to  stay  a  broad 
stream  of  water  leaking  from  a  ditch.  When  he 
would  halt  one  portion,  the  other  portions  flowed 
right  on.  The  sheep  grazed  his  legs,  they  forced  by, 
they  simply  continued  as  if  he  wasn't  there.  And 
speedily  exhausted  by  his  vain  running  and  shouting 
amidst  the  clogging  snow,  he  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  sheep  were  blind  and  deaf,  and  that  all  he 
could  do,  after  all,  was  to  "  stay  with  them." 

On  their  flanks,  with  straining  ear  and  eye,  he  man- 
fully waded.  Sometimes  he  turned  his  back  to  the 
wind,  sometimes  he  varied  by  turning  his  face.  The 
progress  was  slow — too  slow;  slow  and  miserable  and 
everlasting.  About  it  was  naught  of  horse-back  ex- 
citement; naught  of  the  excitement  of  riding  with  a 
stampede,  as  he  had  ridden  in  the  summer  before,  on 
the  drive  up  from  New  Mexico;  it  was  just  stoical, 
stubborn  "  staying,"  without  romance  or  thrill. 

The  baaings  of  the  main  band  had  been  smothered 
by  the  storm  and  distance.  There  were  no  sounds 
save  the  fast  swish  of  the  flakes,  the  soft,  eerie  move- 
ment onward  of  the  almost  indistinguishable  bunch, 
and  its  low,  querulous  bleatings  as  sheep  spoke,  as  if 


DRIFTING    WITH    THE    STORM         2j 

encouragingly,  to  sheep.  Phil  was  alone,  unsupported, 
in  the  midst  of  the  vast,  blending  blackness  and  white- 
ness; alone,  with  the  night,  and  the  storm,  and  the 
hapless,  helpless,  drifting  animals.  •- 

Occasionally  the  sheep  halted  for  a  moment,  and 
huddled;  but  his  dash  to  their  front  resulted  not  at 
all  to  hold  them,  for  in  a  moment,  to  his  disappoint- 
ment, they  resumed  their  resistless  methodical  course. 
And  really  he  did  not  know  whether  he  ought  to  hold 
them,  now,  or  not.  He  remembered  reading  of  sheep 
drifting  against  fences,  and  fatuously  stopping  there, 
in  their  tracks,  until  the  snow  had  covered  them 
completely — then,  the  herder  and  dog;  and  of  the 
bodies  of  all  being  found  together.  And  a  little 
wave  of  despair  passed  through  him,  sickening  him. 
Where  were  they  going,  and  how  long  was  this  thing 
to  keep  up?  The  wind  was  from  the  south,  he 
judged;  and  consequently  they  must  be  moving  up 
the  draw.  If  they  didn't  stop  they  would  be  into 
Utah  by  morning — they  would  be  nowhere,  with 
nothing  to  eat — nothing  dry — they  all  would 
perish  wretchedly,  like  other  herders  and  other  sheep 
in  times  past. 

But  he  shook  himself  together.  After  all,  the  air 
wasn't  cold;  it  scarcely  was  at  freezing.  He  was 
wet  through,  but  he  had  been  wet  before;  and  if 
morning  ever  came  he  would  be  found.  His  ex- 
perience was  nothing  compared  with  Gus'  experience 
up  in  Wyoming;  and  he  was  staying  with  the  sheep. 

It  seemed  to  him  he  heard  a  muffled  voice,  and 
he  shouted  at  it  with  a  long  "  Whoo-ee ! "     An  an- 


28  THE   CIRCLE    K 

swer  came  faintly,  muffled  by  the  flakes.  Somebody 
else  was  over  there,  then — probably  also  with  a  bunch. 
This  was  a  comfort.  He  shouted  at  intervals,  wel- 
coming the  responses  which  now  and  then  he  evoked, 
and  which  apparently  drew  nearer.  Things  didn't 
seem  so  wet  and  chilly,  now  that  he  had  company  in 
his  unpleasantness. 

After  the  last  response  he  thought  that  he  could 
make  out  a  dim  figure,  on  his  right. 

"Who's  that?"  he  shouted. 

"  Howdy,  Smith-Jones,"  came  the  answer.  ''  What 
you  got?  " 

"  Sheep." 

"  Don't  you  run  into  me,"  warned  the  cheery 
Texan.  "  We  don't  know  where  we're  goin'  but 
we're  on  our  way." 

"  Same  here,"  called  Phil.    "  Wish  we  were  there." 

"  Wish  the  wind  would  change,  me,"  asserted 
Haney.  "  So's  we'd  go  back  again.  Nice  wahm 
baid  I  got  out  of." 

The  two  bunches  were  sidling  toward  one  another, 
and  presently,  with  feeble  blattings,  coalesced. 

"  Haow  yuh  laike  it,  Smith-Jones  ?  "  greeted  the 
Texan.  "  Why  don't  yuh  sing  an'  stop  this  stampede. 
Sing  to  caows;  sing  to  sheep."  And  he  warbled,  in  a 
cracked  tenor: 

"  Oh,  I  want  to  be  a  sheepman, 
An*  run  a  woolly  band ; 
Some  wool  upon  my  whiskuhs, 
A  sheep-hook  in  my  hand." 

Phil  was  not  quite  up  to  singing — and  he  never 


IN    THE    MIDST    OF    THE    VAST,    BLENDING    BLACKNESS 
AND    WHITENESS." 


a: 


DRIFTING    WITH    THE    STORM         29 

had  heard  of  singing  to  sheep,  anyway.  But  he  was 
glad  to  have  Haney  sing.  So  they  drifted  on  to- 
gether, calHng  across. 

'*  She's  stoppin'.  Smith- Jones,"  after  a  while  pro- 
nounced the  Texan.  "  Reckon  that's  mohnin',  ovuh 
yonder,  too.  Sun'll  shine  and  we'll  all  be  wahm 
again.    Pity  the  pore  sheep-herder." 

The  snow  had  practically  ceased,  and  so  had  the 
wind.  The  sheep  stood  huddled  together,  in  a  closely- 
packed  mass,  spasmodically  complaining.  They  all 
could  be  seen  now,  for  the  dusk  was  visibly  graying; 
above  the  eastern  horizon  showed  a  strip  of  light ;  the 
stars  showed  overhead.  The  storm  was  past.  Phil 
tramped  himself  a  little  clearing  in  the  snow,  knee- 
deep,  and  stood,  like  the  sheep,  his  charges,  wait- 
ing. 

"  Nice  April  weather,"  he  commented,  to  Haney. 

"  Yes,  suh,  Smith-Jones,"  assured  the  Texan ; 
"  finest  climate  on  earth,  'cept  Texas.  Needed  this 
little  snow  to  kill  the  flies.  Flies  eat  the  wool  off 
the  sheep's  backs.  Reckon  we  might  drive  this  bunch 
to'd  camp.  Smell  bacon — grub  pile  fob  the  pore 
herder." 

By  dint  of  much  shouting  they  succeeded  in  turning 
the  sheep  and  starting  them  on  the  back  trail.  But 
the  animals  were  sluggish  and  unresponsive,  having, 
sheep-fashion,  apparently  given  up  hope  and  being 
resigned  to  stay  on  the  one  spot  until  they  froze. 
For  this  is  the  way  with  the  sheep;  he  never  helps 
himself.  Phil  already  had  decided  that  he  would 
rather  be  cowboy,  on  a  horse.    Trudging  on  foot,  in 


30  THE    CIRCLE    K 

lowly  manner,  urging  on  a  pack  of  senseless,  stubborn 
woollies,  was  far  from  romantic.  Yet  from  his  own 
small  experience  and  from  what  Gus  had  told,  he  real- 
ized that  deeds  had  been  done  in  herding  sheep,  as 
well  as  in  herding  cattle. 

The  back  trail  was  plain,  for  some  distance. 
Brighter  grew  the  sky,  and  the  east  waxed  pink.  Now, 
a  black  speck  on  the  whiteness,  from  down  the  draw 
came  galloping  through  the  snow  a  rider;  and  beyond 
him  could  be  described  a  plume  of  bluish  smoke  waft- 
ing upward.    That  must  be  the  camp. 

"  Heah  comes  the  bawss,"  called  Haney,  ruddy 
faced  and  still  cheerful.  Nothing  ever  disturbed  the 
Texan's  buoyant  nature.  "  Smell  bacon,  me,  too. 
See  that  smoke  ?  " 

Mr.  Simms  it  was.  He  swept  around  behind,  where 
the  herders  were  plodding.  The  pink  glow  flooded  the 
snow,  now;  the  sun  was  well-nigh  up.  The  sheep 
were  evincing  more  interest  in  life,  and  were  trying  to 
spread  out,  pausing  to  snatch  at  the  taller  sage  project- 
ing about  the  surface,  and  even  to  paw  and  nibble, 
underneath. 

"  Go  ahead  in,  boys,"  called  Mr.  Simms.  He  was 
riding  Monte.  "  They'll  take  care  of  themselves, 
now." 

**  Grub  pi-ile,"  quavered  Haney;  and  without  wait- 
ing for  another  word  he  made  for  the  camp. 

Phil  gladly  followed.  The  prospect  of  dryness  and 
breakfast  appealed  to  him  mightily.  At  that  moment 
the  sun  appeared,  pouring  a  sudden  wealth  of  golden 
§hine  across  the  white  field ;  and  by  the  time  that  Phil 


DRIFTING    WITH    THE    STORM         31 

arrived  at  the  tent  he  was  hot  and  perspiring  and 
wet  from  within  as  well  as  from  without. 

He  found  Chet  ahead  of  him,  with  boots  extended 
to  the  crackling  stove,  on  which  Ford  was  cooking. 
Ford,  too,  was  wet,  in  spots  not  yet  dried  out.  Chet 
grinned. 

"  How  do  you  like  it?  "  he  asked. 

"  All  right,"  asserted  Phil,  bluffly.  "  I've  been  in 
just  as  bad  places,  punching  cows." 

"  Aw,  but  that's  different,"  opposed  Chet.  "  Cows 
aren't  sheep.    How  far  did  you  go  ?  " 

"  Two  or  three  miles,  is  all.' 

"  We  didn't.  We  had  the  dog,  and  all  got  together 
and  sort  of  kept  'em  milling." 

"Where's  Gus?" 

"  He's  over  to  the  other  tent.  But  the  dog's  plumb 
asleep  behind  the  stove.    She's  a  dandy,  though." 

And  curled  luxuriously  in  the  warmth  Kitty  gave  a 
little  snuggle  and  a  grunt  of  self-appreciation. 


CHAPTER  III      . 

AN    OLD   ACQUAINTANCE 

"  That  wass  a  lucky  storm,  all  right,'*  declared 
Gus,  as  between  the  two  boys  he  rode  along,  leisurely, 
after  the  slowly  ambling  band. 

The  camp  had  been  struck,  with  the  pack  train  of 
burros  Old  Jess  had  swung  around  and  on  ahead,  the 
various  grazing  bunches,  browsing  through  the  snow, 
had  been  united  into  one,  and  with  the  herders  partially 
dried  by  their  breakfast  near  the  stoves  the  day's  trail 
had  been  commenced. 

*'That  wass  a  lucky  storm,  all  right.  If  it  had 
caught  us  on  the  lambing  range,  or  after  the  shearing, 
or  had  frozen  instead  of  melted,  we  would  have  lost 
some  sheep.  They  are  shearing  already  up  in  Wyo- 
ming, and  I  bet  you  there  will  be  dead  sheep  on  the 
Red  Desert." 

"  Wouldn't  hurt  cattle,  a  little  snow  like  this,"  as- 
serted Chet,  sagely. 

"  Maybe  not.  But  I  tell  you  one  t'ing,  boy — a 
sheep  will  live  when  a  cow  can't.  We  winter  the  sheep 
right  out  on  the  bare  desert,  where  dey  eat  snow  for 
water  and  paw  down  t' rough  it  for  their  fodder.  But 
you  take  a  wet  snow  that  soaks  into  the  wool,  and 
then  freezes,  and  sheep  get  pneumonia.  I've  seen 
sheep  so  heavy  with  snow-packed  wool  they  could  not 

3« 


AN    OLD    ACQUAINTANCE  33 

walk.  And  if  a  cold  spell  ketches  them  right  after 
shearing,  that  kills  dem,  too.  And  lambs  are  killed 
by  cold,  when  they  are  young.  It  iss  all  in  the  wedder, 
running  sheep  in  dis  country.  There  is  t'ree 
times  the  profit,  over  cattle,  and  five  times  the 
risk." 

The  day  positively  was  hot.  'Twas  marvelous,  to 
note  the  snow  vanish  into  the- air.  Already  there  were 
bared  spots  on  the  hill  slopes.  Above  the  swiftly  les- 
sening layer  of  white  the  sage  outstood  fresh  and 
green.  The  sheep  nibbled  busily,  eating  as  they 
walked.  They  were  content  again.  From  the  mass 
of  backs  arose  a  steam.  The  ten  thousand  and  more 
hoofs  left  a  broadly-trampled  trail.  In  the  rear  and 
on  the  flanks  rode  lazily  the  herders;  behind  Gus 
trotted  sedately,  with  occasional  pricking  of  ears, 
Kitty  the  dog.  The  sky  was  blue.  Peace  was  in  the 
air. 

Ofif  to  the  right,  half  a  mile,  trailed  the  other  band, 
herded  by  Hombre  the  Mexican  and  Luis  the  Cali- 
fornia mestizo,  or  mixed  blood  Indian.  His  crimson 
shirt  was  a  brilliant  patch  amidst  the  white  and  the 
blue. 

Thus  the  Circle  K,  five  thousand  strong,  flowed  on 
toward  the  shearing. 

When  halt  was  made  at  noon,  for  lunch,  where  Old 
Jess,  a  welcome  sight,  was  awaiting,  the  snow  had  al- 
most entirely  disappeared.  The  sheep  rested,  the 
majority  of  them  lying  down,  chewing  their  cuds. 
Having  finished  eating,  pipe  in  mouth  Gus  strolled  out 
among  them,  walking  meditatively — limping  on  his 


34  THE   CIRCLE    K 

half  foot;  a  gaunt,  ragged  figure,  but  somehow  typic- 
ally a  shepherd.    He  came  strolling  back  again. 

"  Couple  of  new  ones,"  he  announced. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Simms.   "  Lambs  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.    About  three  minutes  old." 

**  Where  ?  "    The  boys  sprang  up. 

"  You'll  find  dem.  Bot'  black-faced  mothers.  But 
don't  you  go  too  near ;  they  are  wild,  yet ;  you  would  be 
liable  to  make  dem  leave  their  babies  and  we  will  have 
two  bums  on  our  hands  the  first  t'ing." 

The  boys  hastened  to  the  resting  band.  Mr.  Simms 
and  Ford  followed  with  less  hurry.  Old  Jess  and 
Haney  were  repacking  the  burros. 

"  Give  'em  our  compliments,"  said  Jess. 

The  two  mothers  were  easily  picked  out.  They  were 
standing,  gazing  apprehensively  and  nervously  about, 
heads  high,  as  if  they  (the  mothers)  were  torn  be- 
tween astonishment  over  what  had  occurred  and 
fear  lest  something  should  interfere.  Alternately  they 
nuzzled  and  licked  their  babes,  and  stared  around.  At 
the  approach  of  the  boys  they  stamped  with  their  fore- 
hoofs. 

The  lambs  themselves  were  odd  little  creatures — 
dark  yellow  in  color,  wrinkled  of  hide,  lying  weakly 
upon  their  four  doubled-up  legs. 

"Aw,  jiminy!'*  exclaimed  Chet.  "Look  at  'em, 
willyuh!" 

But  even  as  the  boys  did  look,  one  lamb,  and  then 
the  other,  staggered  to  its  feet,  and  stood,  unsteadily 
and  stupidly — and  began  to  drink  milk.  They  seemed 
to  grow,  each  moment,  did  those  Iambs,  while  they 


AN    OLD    ACQUAINTANCE  35 

suckled  and  their  mothers  solicitously  and  industri- 
ously licked  them — ears,  body  and  tail. 

"  That's  right.  Two  wet  lambs,"  quoth  Mr.  Simms. 
"  The  mothers  will  take  care  of  them  now,  if  they're 
let  alone.  But  sometimes  young  ewes,  especially  if 
they  haven't  had  babies  before,  fight  their  lambs  off 
and  won't  recognize  them.     Get  panicky." 

"  If  dey  lick  them,  den  they  keep  them,"  ob- 
served Gus. 

Within  ten  minutes,  when  the  band  was  started  on 
again,  the  two  little  lambs  were  able  to  move  off,  by 
their  mothers.    This  appealed  to  Phil  as  wonderful. 

**  In  some  places  where  the  country  iss  not  so  rough 
they  have  lambing  wagons  to  follow  the  sheep  and  pick 
up  the  babes  and  their  mothers,"  said  Gus.  "  We  do 
that  in  Wyoming.  But  here  in  Colorado  it  iss  too 
rough  and  the  sheep  dey  must  look  out  for  dem- 
selves." 

"  They  use  lambing  wagons  down  on  the  plains," 
put  in  Mr.  Simms.     "  But  mainly  in  bad  weather." 

One  lamb  turned  out  to  be  white,  the  other  black! 
Evidently  as  in  the  case  of  human  babies  it  was  hard 
to  tell,  when  they  were  very  young,  what  would  be 
the  color  of  their  hair. 

During  the  afternoon  drive  the  phenomenon  was 
twice  repeated.  The  boys  themselves  witnessed  a 
ewe  lag  on  the  outskirts  of  the  band  until  upon  the 
ground  beside  her  appeared,  in  miraculous  fashion,  a 
lamb.  Gus  lingered,  waiting  upon  her,  and  after 
twenty  minutes  caught  up  with  the  drive  again,  care- 
fully urging  before  him  mother  and  child.    The  little 


36  THE    CIRCLE    K 

lamb  baaed  in  highest,  thinnest  soprano,  the  mother 
murmured  back  and  solicitously  licked  and  paused, 
stamping  with  silly,  mock  fierceness  at  the  inoffensive 
Kitty,  who  paid  attention  with  pricked  ears;  and  the 
twain  joined  in  at  the  tail  of  the  herd. 

After  camp  was  made  that  night  word  came  from 
the  tent  of  Hombre  and  Luis  that  three  lambs  had 
arrived  in  their  band. 

"  We'll  reach  the  shearing  pens  to-morrow,"  said 
Mr.  Simms,  musingly.  "  Three  days  there,  and  then 
for  the  lambing  range.  And  high  time,  too.  These 
lambs  are  in  a  hurry." 

"  And  they  won't  wait,"  added  Old  Jess,  with  a  sly 
smile  on  his  wrinkled  visage. 

"  No,"  agreed  Mr.  Simms.  **  They  won't  wait. 
When  they're  ready  to  come  they  come." 

Again  had  genial  spring  settled  upon  the  Western 
sheep  range;  for  the  sun  sank  amidst  one  cloudless, 
golden  horizon  and  rose  out  of  another  opposite. 
The  march  was  resumed.  The  broad  draw  which  the 
bands  were  traversing  narrowed,  by  the  middle  of  the 
morning;  and  soon  thereafter  Gus  called  attention  to 
the  ridge  on  the  left. 

"  More  sheep  over  there,"  he  said.    "  Hear  dem?  " 

Sure  enough,  faint  but  persistent  were  wafted  in  the 
baaings  of  a  distant  flock. 

"  Bound  for  the  shearing  pens,  like  we  are,"  re- 
marked Ford. 

"  That  must  be  the  Box  outfit,"  called  Mr.  Simms. 
"  They  follow  us.  This  is  the  eighteenth,  and  they're 
due  on  the  twenty-first," 


AN    OLD   ACQUAINTANCE  37 

xA.ll  the  day  the  baaings  of  the  two  outfits  were 
exchanged.  The  draw  ended,  and  toward  sunset  the 
Circle  K,  climbing  out  of  it  where  it  closed,  emerged 
upon  a  broad,  level  sage  plain,  spanned  by  a  road — the 
first  road  encountered  since  Phil  had  joined.  Before, 
a  mile,  clearly  defined  by  the  setting  sun,  showed  a 
group  of  low  buildings;  while  behind  and  to  the  right, 
heralded  by  their  querulous  voices,  converging  upon 
the  Circle  K,  were  traveling  two  other  bands  of 
sheep,  their  herders  upon  horseback  riding  at  the 
rear. 

*'  Might  find  out  who  those  are,  Chet,"  suggested 
Mr.  Simms. 

"  Come  on,"  bade  Chet,  instantly.  "  Let's  ride 
over,"  and  he  turned  Medicine  Eye.  Phil,  nothing 
loth  to  change  from  walk  to  gallop,  spurred  for  his 
side. 

"Don't  ride  through  the  sheep,  though,"  warned 
Mr.  Simms,  after  them.    "  Go  'round." 

Both  bands  seemed  larger  than  those  of  the  Circle 
K.  They  made  an  engaging  spectacle,  as  in  close 
array,  like  a  trained  army  they  poured,  baaing,  through 
the  sage,  the  long  rays  of  the  low  sun  slanting  athwart 
their  graying,  shaggy  backs.  The  herder  on  the  near 
flank  of  the  first  band  eyed  the  boys  inquiringly,  but 
not  curiously,  as  they  approached.  He  was  riding 
easily,  with  one  leg  over  the  horn  of  his  saddle. 

"Whose  outfit?"  demanded  Chet,  imperiously. 

"Box;  Latham  Brothers,"  responded  the  herder, 
lazily. 

"Where's  the  foreman?" 


38  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"  Over  there/'  and  he  nodded,  expressing  no 
interest. 

"  Come  on,"  said  Chet.     He  and  Phil  proceeded. 

Of  the  two  herders  traihng  the  second  band  Phil 
immediately  recognized  the  first.  On  two  other  occa- 
sions, well-remembered,  had  he  been  thrown  with  this 
lank,  cool  individual  of  the  same  battered  derby  hat, 
the  small  features,  the  bullet  head  on  long  neck,  the 
coat  tight  in  the  sleeves,  the  overalls  short  in  the 
leg;  of  the  stubborn  mind  and  the  flicker  of  eyelid 
which  betokened  fight.  For  he  was  that  plucky  sheep- 
man almost  raided  by  the  roundup  on  the  Bar  B 
range,  and  also  the  sheepman  of  the  disputed  water- 
hole  in  the  New  Mexican  drive.  With  characteristic 
cool  self-possession  he  observed  the  two  boys,  gallop- 
ing up.     He,  too,  was  riding  side-saddle  fashion. 

"  Howdy,"  he  said,  with  a  squirt  of  tobacco  juice, 
over  his  leg. 

"  How  are  you,"  they  answered. 

The  three  now  rode  along. 

"From  that  other  outfit,  aren't  you?"  he  asked, 
leisurely. 

"  Yes,"  said  Chet.  "  We  just  rode  over  to  see  who 
you  were." 

**  Well,  youVe  seen.    We're  here.    Who  are  you?  " 

"  Circle  K." 

"  Used  to  be  in  cattle,  didn't  you  ?  I  remember 
you." 

"  Yes.  We  remember  you,  too.  I  do ;  don't  you, 
Phil?" 

"  Sure  I  do,"  asserted  Phil, 


AN   OLD   ACQUAINTANCE  39 

"Quit  cattle?" 

"  Yes." 

"  That's  it.  That's  the  way.  Fust  you  try  to  run 
me  out  o'  your  country,  or  seize  my  water-hole,  an' 
then  you  take  over  my  very  sheep.  I  like  that,"  and 
again  he  spat. 

"Your  sheep!" 

"  Circle  K.  Same  bunch  you  fellers  were  so  hot 
after  over  in  the  Cathedral  Park  region." 

"  That's  right.  I  remember,"  exclaimed  Phil. 
"  They  did  have  a  K  brand." 

"  You  bet  they  did,"  responded  the  sheepman.  "  I 
was  with  those  sheep  o'  yourn  five  years.  Then  I 
tried  New  Mexico.  Now  I'm  up  here  again.  What's 
the  matter  with  cattle,  that  you've  gone  into  sheep  ?  " 

"  They've  put  our  range  under  a  reservoir,  and 
ranchers  are  coming  in,"  explained  Chet. 

"  Humph !  "  The  bullet-headed  sheepman  savagely 
bit  into  his  plug  of  tobacco.  "  Now  I  suppose  you'll  be 
fightin'  for  sheep  instead  of  against  them.  When  do 
you  shear  ?  You're  the  outfit  just  ahead  o'  mine,  aren't 
you?" 

"  Shear  to-morrow,  I  guess." 

"  Well,  I'll  see  you-all  at  the  pens.  Tell  your  boss 
I  hear  they've  dead-lined  the  Black  Mesa  range,  but 
I'm  goin'  to  lamb  there  just  the  same.  You  people 
goin'  in,  too  ?  " 

"  I  think  so.  We're  going  on  some  lambing  range. 
We've  got  lambs  coming  already,"  said  Chet,  proudly. 

"  Yes,"  drawled  the  sheepman.  "  They'll  come  an' 
they'll  keep  comin'.    You  won't  have  the  only  lambs  in 


40  THE    CIRCLE    K 

the  country.  Here's  where  we  camp.  I'll  see  your 
boss  in  the  mornin'." 

He  whistled  and  waved  his  arm,  and  with  his  herd- 
ers and  the  dogs  started  to  round  the  sheep. 

''  It's  funny  how  we  meet  him  again,"  remarked 
Phil,  as  they  rode  back  for  their  own  camp. 

Chet  nodded. 

''  Uh  huh,"  he  said.  "  But  he  shore  has  got  nerve. 
They  won't  run  him  off  any  lambing  range." 

"  They  won't  run  us  off,  either,"  retorted  Phil, 
boastfully. 

"  No,  I  should  say  not,"  grunted  Chet.  "  If  they 
think  we're  like  common  herders  they're  going  to  get 
fooled.  Dad  and  Haney  and  the  rest  of  them  would 
as  soon  fight  as  eat." 

The  Circle  K  sheep  had  been  halted,  and  were  graz- 
ing; for  the  Simms  outfit  also  had  gone  into  camp. 
The  three  tents  were  up ;  smoke  was  issuing  from  the 
pipes  of  the  stoves,  and  the  boys  almost  could  hear 
Haney  mumuring  his  plaintive :  "  Grub  pi-ile !  "  All 
the  plain  was  filled  with  baaing,  as  the  sheep  of  the  two 
drives  wandered  in  their  own  sections,  cropping  and 
gabbling. 

"  There's  dad,  over  at  the  pens,"  quoth  Chet,  swerv- 
ing Medicine  Eye,  who  much  wanted  to  enter  camp 
and  be  unsaddled,  as  had  some  of  the  other  horses. 
But  he  and  Pepper,  Phil's  horse,  were  obliged  to 
continue  past  the  camp,  and  on  to  the  group  of  long, 
low  buildings  a  half  mile  ahead. 

These  consisted,  on  nearer  inspection,  of  a  bunk- 
house,  evidently  (by  the  men  lounging  before  the  door 


AN   OLD   ACQUAINTANCE  41 

in  its  end),  and  a  dining-hall  (by  the  smoke  from  the 
chimney,  and  the  smell  of  meat,  and  the  cook  in  dirty 
white  apron  standing  looking  curiously  out)  ;  and  of  a 
structure  which  was  but  a  shed  containing  two  lines 
of  pens  separated  by  an  aisle  and  facing  upon  outside 
aisles,  or  shutes,  which  in  turn  skirted  pole  corrals, 
adjoining. 

All  this  collection  stood  out  here,  in  the  setting  sun, 
beside  the  road,  on  the  open,  sagy  plain,  as  if  it  had 
up-sprung  like  a  miraculous  mushroom  growth. 

Mr.  Simms,  off  his  horse,  was  talking  with  a  broad, 
thick,  heavy,  large-all-over  Western  sort  of  a  man, 
in  overalls  and  wide-brimmed,  creased  drab  hat. 

"  The  gang's  here,"  was  saying  the  man,  in  a  boom- 
ing voice  matching  his  size.  "Yes,  sir;  the  gang's 
here.  Bring  on  your  sheep  first  thing  in  the  morning. 
How's  the  wool  ?    Dirty  ?  " 

"  Not  extra.  They  had  a  good  bit  of  snow  on  the 
range  and  the  sand  didn't  blow  much.'* 

"Many  lambs?" 

"  Not  many,  yet." 

"  We'll  shear  the  ewes  first,  so  they  can  be  put  out 
to  grazing." 

"  Twenty  pens,"  mused  Mr.  Simms.  "  About  two 
thousand  sheep  a  day,  that  means." 

"  With  my  gang ;  yes,  sir.  They're  Mormon  boys, 
every  one.  Of  course,  at  the  very  first  they  won't 
average  their  hundred  sheep.  It  may  take  three  days 
to  get  through  your  five  thousand.  But  we  got  good 
pens ;  even  part  of  the  corral  is  roofed  over,  so  in  case 
of  rain  or  ^nov^  there'll  be  dry  sheep.    I  tell  you,  this 


42  .THE    CIRCLE    K 

shearing  in  the  open,  with  only  an  old  gunny  sack 
for  shade,  is  all  right  in  some  countries,  but  not  here. 
What's  that  other  outfit,  over  yonder?  Not  more  of 
yours  ?  " 

"  The  Box,  I  reckon,"  said  Mr.  Simns.  "  Ask  the 
boys,  here.     They  rode  across  to  see." 

"  It's  the  Box,"  confirmed  Chet.  "  And  the  boss  is 
that  same  sheepman  we've  been  running  into  every 
year,  dad.  He  stood  us  off  at  the  water-hole  last 
year." 

"  Oh  ho,"  remarked  Mr.  Simms.    "  Good  man." 

"  Sure  he's  a  good  man,"  loudly  asserted  the  shear- 
ing-pens owner.  "  I  know  him.  Lanky  fellow,  with 
long  neck  and  derby  hat?  I  know  him.  He  was  in 
New  Mexico  last  year  but  this  year  he's  working  for 
Latham  Brothers.  Nobody  bluffs  him.  You  going 
on  the  Black  Mesa,  too?  " 

"  That's  where  we  lamb,"  said  Mr.  Simms. 

"  The  Box  people  are  going  there,  dad,"  informed 
Chet.  "  And  that  foreman  says  we'll  have  trouble, 
because  the  Black  Mesa's  been  dead-lined.  Didn't  he, 
Phil?" 

Phil  nodded,  gravely.     The  matter  was  important. 

*'  I  heard  they  were  going  to  dead-line  it,  this  year," 
boomed  the  shearing-pens  owner.  "  But  they  can't. 
That  ain't  cattle  range.  It  used  to  be,  but  it  ain't  any 
more.  Hasn't  been  for  five  years.  Some  cattle  there, 
but  mostly  sheep.  The  Saddle  X  is  making  this  trou- 
ble. They  want  to  put  their  cattle  over  on  the  mesa, 
because  they've  been  crowded  off  their  old  range." 

**  We    were   crowded,    too,"    quoth    Mr.    Simms. 


AN    OLD    ACQUAINTANCE  43 

"  But  we  didn't  try  to  take  sheep  country  for  cattle." 
His  face  stiffened  slightly,  and  he  smiled  grimly. 
*' That's  where  we  lamb — on  the  Black  Mesa.  I 
reckon  there  won't  be  trouble.  I  know  one  thing,  we 
won't  trouble  other  folks  before  they  trouble  us.  All 
right.  I'll  have  the  first  bunch  of  sheep  here  by  the 
time  your  gang's  ready.  Come  on,  boys.  Supper's 
waiting." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   SHEARING   OF    THE   SHEEP 

The  camp  was  astir  by  dawn — which  was  nothing 
unusual,  having  been  the  custom  at  least  since  Phil's 
arrival;  but  there  was  a  new  tinge  of  bustle  in  the  at- 
mosphere, as  if  the  day  was  to  be  an  especially  busy 
one. 

"  We'll  drive  that  other  band  in  first,"  directed  Mr. 
Simms.  "  If  those  shearers  are  any  good  they  can 
about  clean  it  up  to-day.  It  has  more  ewes  in 
than  ours.  Won't  need  horses,  boys.  Do  it 
afoot." 

"  Bawss,  he'd  oughter  say  *  yorn  in  than  ourn,' " 
criticized  Haney.     "  Said  *  ewes  in  than  ours.'  " 

By  dint  of  shouting  and  running  Hombre  and  Luis 
already  were  driving  their  band  onward  across  the 
low,  trampled  sage,  toward  the  pens.  On  foot,  the 
others,  save  Gus  and  Kitty,  left  behind  to  herd  the 
second  band,  and  Jess  and  Mr.  Simms,  who  rode  for 
the  pens,  hastened  to  help. 

"  Not  too  fast,  not  too  fast,"  shouted  Mr.  Simms, 
from  where  he  and  Old  Jess  had  stationed  themselves, 
having  tethered  their  horses  to  the  fence,  either  side 
of  the  corral  gateway.  "  Point  them  in  here  and 
get  them  started  before  you  crowd  'em." 

"  Si.  Bueno,"  called  Hombre  to  Luis,  gaily,  ap- 

44 


THE    SHEARING   OF   THE   SHEEP      45 

proving.  And  Luis  answered  something  in  Mexican, 
as  one  who  understood  his  business. 

The  sheep  were  compressed  more  and  more  solidly 
as  they  shambled  forward  protestingly  baaing.  Be- 
hind, Ford  and  Hombre  pressed  and  shouted;  on  the 
right  flank  Chet  and  Luis,  on  the  left  flank  Phil  and 
Haney,  flourished  their  arms  and  shouted.  The  sheep- 
pens  owner  and  another  man  came  running,  with 
gunny-sacks,  and  stationing  themselves  on  either  flank, 
they  also  waved  and  shouted.  The  dust  hung  in  a 
cloud,  Haney  was  redder  than  ever,  the  smell  of  sheep 
wafted  from  the  shuttling  bodies  floated  sluggishly 
in  the  still  morning  air. 

At  the  gate  the  blatting  van  hesitated  for  a  moment ; 
but  in  obediently  trotted  the  knowing  leaders,  and  all 
hastened  to  follow.     The  gate  was  closed. 

"  Now  what  else  foh  the  pore  sheep-herder,"  panted 
Haney,  dusty,  perspiring  and  very  red,  wiping  his  face 
with  a  handkerchief  only  slightly  redder.  "  That's 
hahd  wuhk,  Smith- Jones.  Don't  laike  usin'  my  feet, 
me.     'Drather  brand  calves." 

And  in  truth  this  tramping  and  racing  afoot  was 
tough  on  anybody  of  the  Texan's  stamp,  who  had 
been  accustomed  to  doing  things  mainly  from  a 
horse. 

"  Whew!  "  quoth  Chet.     "  That's  what  I  say." 

But  along  a  side  of  the  corral  extended  a  shute  or 
narrow  passage;  one  end  corner  of  the  shute  opened 
into  the  corral  with  a  gate,  the  other  end  connected 
at  right  angles  with  the  shute  skirting  the  first  row  of 
shearing  pens.     It  was  continued  on  also,  so  that 


46  THE    CIRCLE    K 

sheep  could  be  driven  through  and  into  the  second 
row  of  pens. 

Now  Mr.  Admun  (who  was  the  shearing-pens 
owner)  alertly  opened  the  gate  from  the  corral  into  the 
shute;  and  Mr.  Simms,  who  was  as  spry  as  anybody, 
vaulted  the  corral  fence.  Luis,  Hombre,  Ford,  fol- 
lowed; and  the  gunny-sack  man  who  had  come  with 
Mr.  Admun. 

"  Come  on,"  said  Chet ;  and  he  and  Phil  imitated 
the  others. 

"  Don't  need  any  more,"  called  Mr.  Simms. 

"  I'm  'fraid  o'  sheep,  when  that  red  shirt's  chasin' 
'em,"  averred  Haney.  *'  Don't  ketch  me  inside  any 
fence  with  mad  sheep — um  um.  Jess  eithuh.  We're 
too  old  an'  stiff,  punchin'  caows." 

Between  the  fence  poles  he  and  Old  Jess  looked  on. 
To  corner  the  sheep,  and  drive  enough  into  the  shute 
to  fill  it  was  at  first  not  difficult.  The  boys.  Ford,  Luis 
and  Hombre  forced  them  in. 

"  Not  fast.  Not  mek  dem  excited,"  warned  Hom- 
bre. He  had  the  gunnysack ;  for  Mr.  Simms  and  Mr. 
Admun  were  leaning  over  the  shute,  poking  the  sheep 
with  sticks  to  move  them  up. 

''  All  full,"  spoke  Mr.  Admun.  "  Close  the  gate, 
somebody.    Open  at  the  other  end,  Bob." 

Phil  and  Chet  rushed  across  the  corral,  to  see;  for 
the  shearing  was  about  to  commence.  Along  the  cen- 
ter aisle  of  the  shearing  shed  the  shearers  were  loaf- 
ing; laughing  and  joking,  or  leaning  negligently 
against  the  boards  of  the  pens,  looking  and  waiting 
for  the  sheep. 


THE    SHEARING   OF    THE    SHEEP      47^ 

They  were  a  steady,  rather  sober-appearing  set,  old 
and  young,  in  overalls  or  ordinary  clothes,  and  seemed 
farmers  or  mechanics  rather  than  sheep-shearers. 
Only  one  of  them,  with  shaggy  black  whiskers  and 
eyebrows,  long  hair,  slouched  black  hat,  black,  burning 
eyes  and  a  generally  brigandish,  rakish  air,  as  he 
leaned  with  folded  arms  upon  the  edge  of  his  pen  and 
meditatively  smoked  a  short  black  pipe,  struck  Phil  as 
meeting  the  requirements  of  the  typical  sheep-shearer 
of  the  West. 

The  man  Bob  had  opened  a  gate  in  the  end  of  the 
pens  shute,  connecting  with  the  corner  of  the  corral 
shute;  this  required  considerable  exclamation  and 
shoving,  as  the  sheep  were  pressed  close  against  it. 
Then,  urged  by  voices  and  poles,  behind,  they  came 
trotting,  pausing,  jostling  and  trotting  again,  down 
outside  the  row  of  pens,  until  they  had  filled  the  shute 
full. 

From  each  of  the  pens  a  gate  opened  outward,  and 
swung  clear  across  the  shute;  and  now  opening  the 
gates,  beginning  at  one  end,  Bob  and  Mr.  Simms  and 
Mr.  Admun  turned  and  pushed  and  urged  and  fairly 
shoved  into  every  pen  a  number  of  sheep.  The  same 
was  done  for  the  opposite  row  of  pens.  Stupid,  erratic 
animals  were  these  sheep;  their  sharp  hoofs  clattered 
noisily  as  they  balked  and  dodged  and  resisted. 

"  The  old  ones,  dey  know,  all  right,"  commented 
Hombre,  behind  the  boys :  "  Young  ones,  dey  scared. 
Never  been  sheared  before.  Down  my  country,  New 
Mexico,  some  places  shear  twice  a  year.  Shear  twice 
a  year,  in  Californy,  too;  hey,  Luis,  amigo?" 


48  THE    CIRCLE    K 

Luis,  with  rather  a  somber  gaze  despite  his  crimson 
shirt,  surveying  the  pens  and  the  shearers,  nodded. 

"  If  so  the  weather  is  always  warm,"  he  said, 
slowly. 

''  Here  shear  only  in  spring.  If  shear  in  fall,  den 
sheeps  don't  have  clothes  'nough  for  winter,"  ex- 
plained Hombre. 

But  this  shearing  at  the  Admun  pens  held  the  floor. 
For  in  the  rows  of  stalls  the  sheep — eight  or  ten  in 
each  compartment — were  waiting,  glancing  about  ap- 
prehensively with  yellow,  snaky  eyes  and  stamping 
with  hard  feet. 

"Let  her  go,"  shouted  a  voice;  and  the  shearers 
vaulted  into  their  pens.  There  was  a  simultaneous 
movement  and  bustle,  and  a  sudden  snip,  snip,  snip. 

The  man  in  pen  No.  I  was  a  short,  chunky  bright- 
eyed  litle  man,  in  mechanic's  overalls  and  a  visor  cap 
branded  "  Gold  Belt  flour."  The  pen  was  not  only 
labeled  "  I,"  but  it  was  scarred  with  many  initials  and 
fancy  insignia.    The  boys  watched  No.  I  curiously. 

From  among  the  animals  all  pressing  together  in 
the  farther  end  of  the  pen  he  grabbed  a  sheep  by  the 
hind  leg,  and  masterfully  drawing  it  (resisting  not  a 
bit,  as  if  it  might  be  paralyzed  by  the  touch)  toward 
him,  dexterously  flopped  it  upon  its  side.  He  whirled 
it  over,  and  propping  it  upon  its  broad  haunches,  set 
it  up  with  its  back  against  his  knees.  It  did  not  a  thing 
but  look  imploringly  into  his  face. 

"  Now  he  open  it  up,"  quoth  Hombre,  eagerly. 

With  his  shears,  which  were  shaped  like  the  shears 
with  which  people  trim  lawn-grass,  snip,  snip,  snip 


THE    SHEARING   OF   THE    SHEEP      49 

he  ploughed  a  furrow  straight  down  its  brisket.  The 
skin  showed  pinky  white.  Working  from  either  edge 
of  the  furrow  he  cHpped  breast  and  side  and  belly  and 
back,  turning  the  sheep  upon  the  pivot  of  its  haunches, 
as  he  progressed;  he  trimmed  the  ears  and  the 
flanks.  The  shorn  wool  rolled  down  in  a  billowy 
mass,  until  the  man  was  standing  ankle  deep  in  it. 
Ruthlessly  he  jerked  and  turned  and  snipped,  and  now 
and  then  he  brought  blood,  as  he  cut  into  a  wrinkle  or 
a  scar  or  a  wart.  After  all,  it  was  only  hair-clipping 
on  a  large  scale.  Only,  nobody  would  have  supposed 
that  there  was  so  much  of  the  hair.  Very  odd  ap- 
peared the  sheep,  scrawny,  and  singularly  white,  like 
a  boy  with  his  clothing  off  about  to  take  the  first  swim 
of  the  season.     With  a  shove  the  shearer  released  it. 

Straightening  not,  the  man  reached  and  plucked 
from  a  loose-knotted  hank  of  coarse  yarn  or  twine, 
hanging  against  the  boards  of  his  pen,  a  strand;  and 
stooping  more,  gathered  with  swift  motion  the  wool 
about  his  feet.  With  three  more  motions  he  had  tied 
the  twine  about  it.  He  tossed  the  bundle  into  the 
aisle  back  of  him — and  grabbed  another  sheep. 

"  I'm  going  to  time  him,"  said  Chet. 

Luis  the  Californian  grunted. 

"  That  hees  fleece,  what  he  tossed  over.  You  see 
that  piece  hide,  over  back  of  hees  hand,  to  hold  shears 
tight?  "  instructed  Hombre.    "  That  hees  buck." 

Snip,  snip,  went  the  shears  again.  Snip,  snip,  were 
going  all  the  shears ;  and  every  pen  had  a  fleece  lying 
outside  of  it.  There  was  rumble  of  wheels — and 
along  the  pens  was  being  rolled  a  boarded-up  car,  like 


50  THE    CIRCLE    K 

a  small  coal-wagon,  into  which  a  slender  boy  was 
gathering  the  fleeces.  The  air  was  becoming  dusty, 
mingled  with  particles  of  wool  and  up-raise  from  shuf- 
fle of  feet.  The  beams  of  the  sun  struck  through 
golden,  shining  as  far  as  they  could  under  the  roof. 

Number  One  had  finished  another  sheep. 

"  Not  quite  four  minutes,"  announced  Chet. 

Luis  the  Calif ornian  grunted  again. 

"What's  that?"  queried  Number  One.  He  had 
tied  his  fleece  and  was  pausing  to  hone  his  shears  with 
a  little  stone. 

"  Not  quite  four  minutes,"  informed  Chet.  "  I 
timed  you." 

"  That's  pretty  good,  isn't  it?  "  asked  Phil. 

"  No,"  murmured  Luis.    "  Not  good.     Slow." 

"  Good  enough  for  a  beginning,"  retorted  the  'man. 
"  A  fellow's  stiff  at  first.  These  are  my  first  sheep 
this  season.  About  eighty's  the  average,  to-day  and 
to-morrow.  But  I'll  be  turning  out  my  io8  regular, 
when  I  get  {started.  A  sheep  in  a  little  over  three 
minutes  is  my  gait." 

**  Luis,  he  shear,  too,"  quoth  Hombre,  proudly. 

"  Who's  Luis  ?  "  demanded  the  man.  He  grabbed 
another  sheep. 

"  Dis  Luis." 

"  Where'd  you  shear,  friend?  "  asked  the  man. 

"  Cal'fornia." 

"  Humph.  Well,  they  shear  some  sheep  there, 
sure."  The  shears  were  snipping  as  the  man  talked. 
The  wool  rolled  white — dingy  on  the  outside  but  pure 
snow  on  the  inside.     The  contrast  was  remarkable. 


THE    SHEARING   OF    THE    SHEEP      51 

The  sheep,  helpless  and  obedient,  kept  its  servile  eyes 
lifted  to  the  man's  down-bent  face.  "  Used  to  have 
California  shearers  out  in  this  country.  Now  we're 
all  Mormons." 

*'  Luis,  he  champion.  Very  fast  shearer.  Shear 
over  two  hundred,  ten  hours." 

"  Tying  his  own  fleeces?  " 

*'  Yes,"  said  Luis,  shortly,  nodding.  He  walked 
away. 

"  We  got  a  champion,  too,"  answered  the  man. 
"  See  that  fellow  in  Number  Ten  ?  With  the  whis- 
kers ?  He's  good  for  two  hundred  and  more  than  two 
hundred.     Maybe  we  can  get  up  a  match." 

"  Mebbe,"  said  Hombre.  "  I  ask  Luis.  I  bet  on 
heem." 

"  Go  on  and  ask  him,  Hombre,"  urged  Chet,  ex- 
cited.   "  Get  his  record." 

"  Sure,"  encouraged  Phil. 

Hombre  hastened  after  the  Californian. 

"  Look  at  the  big  sack,"  prompted  Phil  to  Chet. 

For  in  the  doorway  of  the  shearing  shed  was  sus- 
pended, from  a  square  frame  of  two-by-fours,  a  great 
sack  of  brown  jute,  seven  feet  long  and  as  big  around 
as  a  hogshead.  The  wool-cart  boy  was  tossing  up  the 
fleeces,  to  a  man  who  was  filling  the  sack.  Already  it 
was  more  than  half-full,  and  the  man  was  inside, 
tramping  the  fleeces  as  solid  as  he  could.  His  arms 
reached  out,  to  catch  the  fleeces  as  they  came. 
A  stout  plank,  like  a  lever,  inserted  underneath  the 
bulging  bottom,  helped  to  hold  up  the  sack.  In  a  few 
minutes  it  was  jammed  to  the  top;  the  man  climbed 


52  THE    CIRCLE    K 

out  upon  the  scaffolding,  and  with  a  large  sailor*s 
needle  sewed  the  mouth  of  the  sack  tight.  Then  at  a 
shout  it  was  lowered,  carefully  (for  it  must  have  been 
very  heavy) ;  it  toppled,  and  fell — plunk — outside  the 
shed. 

A  couple  of  men  seized  it,  and  rolled  it  to  a  set  of 
scales,  and  weighed  it.  Meantime  another  sack  had 
been  hung,  mouth  stretched  open,  from  the  scaffolding, 
and  fleeces  were  being  dropped  into  it.  Beside  the 
doorway  sat  a  man  getting  the  sacks  ready.  He  tied 
a  handful  of  wool  into  each  bottom  corner,  like  an  ear, 
for  a  hand-grasp,  and  wet  the  mouths,  so  that  they 
would  set  better. 

The  filled  sack  had  been  weighed,  and  was  being 
rolled  away.  Upon  the  hard  rotund  bottom  was 
marked,  in  black  paint : 


330® 


"That's  ours.  It's  Number  i,  and  it  weighs  three 
hundred  and  thirty  pounds,"  quoth  Chet,  proudly. 

"  It's  got  the  Circle  K  brand  on  it,  too,"  supple- 
mented Phil.    "  How  many  will  there  be,  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I'll  ask  dad.  He's  weighing  some 
fleeces." 

Mr.  Simms  and  the  shearing-pen's  owner  were 
laying  four  or  five  fleeces,  one  after  the  other,  upon 
the  scales,  and  noting  the  weights. 

"  Average  about  seven  pounds,"  said  Mr.  Admun. 
"  That's  fairly  clean  wool." 

■*  About  forty-four  or  fort^-five  fleeces  to  a  sack, 


TOSSING    UP    THE    FLEECES    TO    A    MAN    WHO    WAS    FILLING 
THE    SACK." 


THE  SHEARING  OF  THE  SHEEP   53 

then/'  mused  Mr.  Simms.  And  without  being  asked 
he  answered  Phil's  question.  "  We'll  have  a  hundred 
and  twenty  sacks." 

"  Just  about.'* 

"Oh,  jiminy!"  exclaimed  Chet.  "A  hundred 
big  sacks  of  wool,  and  we've  still  got  the  sheep.'* 

Mr.  Admun  laughed  with  a  loud  guffaw. 

"  Sure,"  he  said.  "  And  you've  still  got  the  sheep, 
for  more  wool  and  mutton." 

"  We've  got  a  champion  shearer,  too,"  proclaimed 
Chet. 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  asked  his  father. 

"  Luis,  the  Californian." 

"  You  have,  have  you  ? "  queried  Mr.  Admun. 
"  He'll  have  to  go  some,  to  beat  our  man.  That 
whiskered  fellow  in  Number  Ten  is  some  shearer.  I 
never  knew  anybody  to  beat  him." 

"  Hombre  wants  to  get  up  a  match,"  spoke  Phil. 

**  All  right.  Fetch  on  your  champion.  Fact  is, 
all  our  men  are  first-class."  They  strolled  to  the  end 
of  the  shed,  and  looked  in  upon  the  busy  shearers. 
"  They're  Mormons.  We  used  to  have  Californian 
shearers.  They  did  nothing  but  shear,  the  year 
through,  starting  out  from  the  coast,  and  making  cir- 
cuit through  Utah  and  Colorado,  and  Wyoming,  and 
Montana  and  Idaho,  and  back  to  the  coast  again. 
Regular  gypsies.  Good  shearers,  too,  only  wild. 
But  they  went  on  a  strike  on  us,  several  years  ago. 
Everyone  quit,  where  I  was,  up  in  Wyoming."  He 
laughed  again.  "  Say,  but  we  had  a  time.  I  sent 
down  to  Denver  to  an  employment  agency,  at  last. 


54  THE    CIRCLE    K 

Had  to  get  my  sheep  sheared.  I'd  contracted  for 
fifty  thousand.  Fellow  down  in  Denver  shipped  us 
thirteen  men,  and  we  set  'em  to  work.  By  thunder, 
the  thirteen  of  'em  sheared  thirty-nine  sheep  in  ten 
hours!  One  man  he  sheared  all  the  morning  at  one 
sheep;  regularly  butchered  it,  and  then  had  to  leave 
it  waiting  while  he  Avent  to  dinner !  I  found  out  that 
none  of  the  men  ever  had  sheared  a  sheep  before,  and 
some  of  'em  never  had  seen  a  sheep.  Lots  of  sheep 
didn't  get  sheared  at  all,  that  spring.  But  since  then 
most  of  us  have  been  using  Mormons.  They're  good 
shearers,  and  they're  steady.  Why,  over  some  of  the 
bunk-houses  they  have  gospel  verses.  And  it's  all 
right,  too.  Most  of  'em  have  other  trades,  that  they 
work  at  the  rest  of  the  year.  That  man  in  Number 
One  is  a  paper-hanger.  I  pay  'em  eight  cents  a  sheep, 
and  they  make  their  eight  dollars  a  day.  Costs  'em 
about  seventy-five  cents  a  day  to  board.  I've  had 
this  very  same  gang  three  years,  now.  Engage  'em 
through  their  foreman.  Most  of  'em  are  from  Bing- 
ham, Utah,  and  thereabouts.  They'll  shear  over 
sixty  thousand  sheep,  at  these  pens,  this  spring." 

"  How  much  do  we  have  to  pay,  dad?  "  asked  Chet, 
boldly. 

"  You  pay  thirteen  cents  a  sheep,  and  I  furnish  the 
sacks  and  string  and  shearers  and  pens  and  all,"  an- 
swered Mr.  Admun,  quickly. 

**  Oh,  jiminy!"  murmured  Chet,  appalled.  And 
that  did  seem  quite  an  expense,  when  the  five  thou- 
sand sheep  were  considered. 

"  .Well,  I  reckon  after  your  father's  sold  the  wool 


THE    SHEARING   OF   THE    SHEEP      55 

— as  he  will,  to  that  man  coming  yonder— he'll  have 
enough  money  to  buy  you  a  suit  of  clothes  and  him- 
self a  new  hat,"  remarked  Mr.  Admun,  shortly. 

Not  only  one  man,  but  two  were  approaching,  down 
the  road,  in  a  buggy.  And  across  the  sage  was 
coming  on,  at  a  trot,  a  rider. 

"  That's  that  Box  foreman,  behind,  I  reckon,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Simms.    "  I  recognized  his  hat." 


CHAPTER  V 


BIG   BEN    THE   MORMON 


At  that  moment  a  shout  sounded  from  several  of 
the  pens;  all  their  sheep  had  been  shorn.  The  man 
Bob  vaulted  into  the  chute  and  began  opening  the 
pen  gates,  and  out  were  driven  the  sheep.  Without 
their  wool,  thin  rabbity  creatures  they  now  were; 
headed  aright  they  cantered,  as  if  gladly,  down  the 
shute,  opposite  to  the  direction  by  which  they  had 
entered;  and  turning  a  corner  were  in  a  narrow  con- 
tinuation between  two  corrals,  with  space  for  only 
one  sheep  to  pass  at  a  time. 

Old  Jess  was  leaning  over  the  rail,  at  the  narrow 
channel,  with  what  appeared  not  unlike  a  stone- 
cutter's mallet  in  his  hand,  and  a  tin  bucket  slung 
from  a  post  beside  him.  Haney,  the  red-headed 
Texan,  stood  near. 

"  Come  to  the  branding  Smith-Jones,"  he  called, 
seeing  Phil  watching.  "  Goin*  to  wrestle  sheep  foh 
us?    Don't  let  'em  bite  you." 

But  if  this  was  a  branding,  it  was  a  tame  one.  As 
Phil  and  Chet  drew  curiously  near,  while  Haney 
poked  the  sheep  on  down  the  chute,  Old  Jess  pressed 
his  mallet  upon  the  rump  of  each;  it  left  a  large 

black  (^   plainly  stamped  with  paint  upon  the  short, 
white,  fuzzy-wooled  hide.     Between  times  he  dipped 
'56 


BIG    BEN    THE    MORMON  '57 

the  instrument  into  the  paint-pot — for  that  was  what 
the  tin  bucket  proved  to  be,  as  the  mallet  proved  to  be 
only  a  wooden  stamp. 

"  'Drather  brand  calves  any  day,"  grumbled 
grizzled  Old  Jess,  half  ashamed.  "  I  never  was 
brought  up  to  be  a  sheep  painter." 

Fast  came  trotting  the  sheep,  released  from  the 
shearers.  They  faltered  under  the  stamp,  then  scam- 
pered on,  until  by  squads  they  w^ere  released  into  the 
shorn-sheep  corral,  and  the  branding  chute  received 
others.  In  the  corral  they  wandered,  white,  gaunt 
and  shivery — their  necks  long  and  their  legs  slen- 
der. 

The  opposite  chute  leading  into  the  pens,  was 
emptied,  and  the  pens  were  again  filled.  Snip,  snip, 
snip,  went  the  shears,  clipping  fleeces  for  the  Circle 
K  outfit.  In  the  main  corral  Hombre  and  Luis  and 
Ford,  with  gunnysacks,  were  chasing  more  of  the 
sheep  into  the  leading  shute,  to  have  them  ready  for 
the  next  call  from  the  shearers. 

The  two  men  in  the  buggy  had  arrived.  They 
were  well  dressed — city  dressed.  They  even  had 
their  trousers  creased,  observed  Phil,  as  they  clam- 
bered out  and  tethered  their  horse  to  a  rail  of  the 
corral. 

"  I  know,"  said  Chet.  "  They're  going  to  buy  dad's 
wool.  They're  both  from  Boston.  Dad  saw  them  in 
Marino  last  week.  They've  been  up  in  Wyoming, 
too,  buying  wool." 

Mv.  Simms  shook  hands  with  them.  They  took  a 
scrutiny  of  the  sheep,  shorn  and  unshorn,  then  they 


58  THE    CIRCLE    K 

strolled  to  the  pens,  and  one  of  the  men  ran  his  fingers 
through  the  wool  on  a  sheep's  back.  They  picked 
up  a  fleece  or  so,  in  nonchalant  fashion,  and  plucked 
several  fingerfuls  of  wool  from  each,  squeezing  it 
and  rubbing  it. 

"  You  go  over  there  and  you'll  learn  how  to  buy 
wool,"  spoke  a  voice  behind  the  boys,  as  they  stood, 
watching.  It  was  the  foreman  of  the  Box.  "  Them's 
two  of  the  best  buyers  in  the  country.  They  know 
more  wool  than  the  sheep  who  raises  it." 

"  I'm  with  you,"  said  Ford,  leaping  over  the  corral 
fence.     "  I'd  like  to  know  wool,  myself." 

They  all  four  went. 

"  A  fair  crop,"  was  saying  one  of  the  men.  "  Why, 
hello,  Dexter,"  he  exclaimed,  seeing  Ford.  "Didn't 
know  you  were  around  here." 

Ford  grinned,  and  unembarrassed  by  his  overalls 
and  dust  shook  the  man's  hand. 

"  Here  I  am.  How's  Boston  ?  How  are  the 
folks?" 

"  Fine  and  dandy.  But  I  thought  you  were  punch- 
ing cows." 

"  No.  Prodding  sheep.  Same  outfit,  but  different 
style  of  animals.     When  did  you  leave  home  ?  " 

"  Last  month.    Been  up  in  Wyoming." 

"  Well,  go  ahead  with  your  dickering.  We  want 
to  see  how  you  do  it." 

"  Want  to  see  how  I  get  done,  you  mean,"  laughed 
the  man — a  rosy-cheeked,  fresh-looking  individual, 
as  if,  despite  his  presence  here  on  the  sagy  desert,  he 
had  iust  rolled  out  of  a  bath-tub,     "We  won't  have 


BIG   BEN    THE    MORMON  59 

any  trouble  buying  this  wool,  though,  I  guess.  It's 
up  to  average." 

"  How  do  you  tell  wool,  anyway,  Jim?  "  demanded 
Ford. 

"  Partly  by  instinct — partly  by  just  knowing  how. 
We  judge  by  the  staple^that's  the  length  of  the  fibre ; 
and  by  quality  of  fibre,  whether  coarse  or  fine,  soft 
or  brittle,  and  by  the  amount  of  dirt.  When  sheep 
are  fat,  their  wool  is  greasy,  and  collects  dirt;  and 
when  they've  had  a  windy  winter,  with  little  snow, 
it  gathers  sand.  Now,  these  sheep,  I  should  say,  had 
been  through  a  winter  with  lots  of  snow  and  rather 
cold ;  so  the  wool  is  long,  and  not  extra  dirty.  Sheep 
aren't  over  fat,  you  notice,  which  also  tells  the  tale. 
Dirt  and  grease  make  a  lot  of  difference,  when  we 
pay  by  the  pound,  as  we  do.  We  have  to  allow  for 
shrinkage  in  the  factory  scouring.  My  house  is  rather 
particular  about  not  paying  for  sand.  We've  got 
sand  enough  in  Boston." 

"  It  sure  takes  a  long  head,"  observed  Ford, 
musingly. 

"  Comes  to  be  instinct,  after  you've  been  at  the 
business  for  a  while.  If  I  buy  this  wool,  I  pull  a  few 
handfuls  out  of  the  sacks  and  ship  them  home  for 
samples.  I  pay  part  of  the  money  down,  here,  and 
the  rest  usually  when  the  wool  is  shipped  from  the 
warehouse.  See?  Well,  I'm  mighty  glad  to  have 
run  across  you.  Dexter.  Aren't  going  back  East 
with  me  ?  " 

Ford  laughed  under  his  crisp  moustache  and  shook 
his  head. 


6o  IHE   CIRCLE   K 

"  Not  at  present,"  he  said.  "  This  country  suits 
me.  I'll  have  you  buying  my  wool,  after  a  bit.  But 
tell  the  folks  you  saw  me,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  will.    I'll  be  there  next  month." 

The  buyer  turned  away,  and  resumed  his  strolling 
and  conversation  with  Mr.  Simms  and  the  other  man. 

"  His  father  is  head  of  one  of  the  biggest  wool 
houses  in  the  East,"  explained  Ford.  "I  was  at 
Harvard  with  this  chap.  He  knows  my  father  and 
mother." 

**  How  about  that  match?  Arranged  it  yet?" 
queried  the  shearer  in  Number  One  pen,  against 
which  they  were  leaning.  He  was  streaked  with  per- 
spiration, but  scarcely  paused  in  his  clipping  to  glance 
up. 

'*  I  don't  know,"  answered  Chet,  reminded.  "  Come 
on,"  he  added,  with  sudden  interest.  "  Let's  talk 
with  their  champion  and  see  what  he  says." 

He  jumped  in  and  started  through  the  shute  for 
Number  Ten  pen,  where  the  whiskered  man  was 
hard  at  work. 

"  Champion  what  ? "  asked  Ford,  following  with 
Phil. 

"  Champion  shearer.     We've  got  one  too — Luis." 

"  Bueno,"  quoth  Ford.  "  Never  saw  either  of 
them  shear,  and  don't  know  a  thing  about  it,  but  I'll 
back  Luis,  for  the  honor  of  the  Circle  K." 

The  shaggy,  brigandish  man  did  not  look  up;  and 
the  three  watched  him  for  a  minute  in  silence. 

"  We  hear  you  can  shear  some,"  finally  remarked 
Ford. 


BIG   BEN    THE   MORMON  6i 

"Yes;  some,"  grunted  the  man.  "Been  at  it 
twenty  years." 

"  The  boys  say  we've  got  a  shearer,  who's  pretty 
good." 

"That  Cahfornia  Indian?" 

"  Yes." 

The  man  released  his  shorn  sheep,  and  briefly  honed 
his  blades. 

"  I've  seen  him.     Saw  him  in  Utah  last  year." 

"  We  thought  we'd  get  up  a  match  between  you," 
volunteered  Phil. 

"  I  reckon  it  might  be  done,"  said  the  man,  shortly. 
He  grabbed  another  sheep,  and  set  to  work. 

"All  right.  We'll  bring  him  'round,"  proffered 
Ford. 

"  Dinner  time,  or  to-night.  I'm  busy  now."  The 
shaggy  man  evidently  was  of  the  reticent,  unsociable 
type;  and  after  a  moment  more  they  left  him  alone, 
as  he  desired  to  be. 

"  Then  it's  a  go,  is  it  ?  "  called  back  Chet,  eagerly. 

He  grunted,  but  the  grunt  was  taken  for  a  yes. 

As  they  passed  along  out,  the  shearer  in  Number 
One  glanced  up  at  them  inquiringly. 

"  He's  agreeable,"  informed  Ford — not  meaning 
Number  Ten's  disposition  in  general,  as  occurred  to 
Phil,  but  his  attitude  toward  the  contest. 

Number  One  wiped  his  face  with  a  red  handker- 
chief. 

"  Sure  he  is.  He  could  shear  a  cast-iron  sheep. 
Big  Ben  could,  and  make  a  quick  job  of  it.  Fetch  on 
your  man," 


62  THE    CIRCLE    K 

But  there  was  no  space  now  for  further  negotia- 
tions. The  shearers  were  again  on  their  last  sheep; 
the  pens  were  about  to  be  emptied,  and  fresh  material 
supplied.  In  the  corral  the  sheep  had  been  thinned 
out;  all  hands  must  bend  to  the  task  of  refilling  the 
shute,  for  the  unshorn  sheep  sped  hither  and  thither, 
and  dodged  and  swerved,  as  fatuous  and  obstinate 
as  pigs,  as  contrary  as  a  cat  shown  to  an  open  door. 
Phil  and  Chet  shouted  themselves  hoarse  the  while 
they  waved  their  arms  in  lieu  of  sacks,  and  ran  and 
perspired  and  swallowed  dust. 

"  Go  to  it.  Smith- Jones,'*  encouraged  Haney,  as  he 
helped  Old  Jess  brand.     "  Lots  o'  fun  chasin'  sheep." 

"  They  say  bring  on  our  man,  Hombre,"  panted 
Chet,  amidst  the  running.    "  For  a  match." 

Hombre  flashed  his  white  teeth. 

"  Bueno.    Luis  say  he  do  it,  for  money." 

But  Ford  and  Luis  had  left,  to  trail  in  more  sheep, 
for  replenishing  the  corral. 

Now  the  sun  had  mounted  high,  until  his  golden 
beams  no  longer  slanted  in  under  the  shed  roof, 
athwart  sheep  and  shearers,  decorating  the  air  with 
bars  of  dancing  motes.  Again  and  again  had  the 
wranglers  filled  the  shute,  and  the  shearers  emptied 
their  pens.  The  mass  of  unshorn  sheep  in  the  en- 
trance corral  diminished,  and  the  mass  of  whiter, 
gaunter  shorn  sheep  in  the  exit  corral  increased. 
Snip,  snip,  snip,  hastened  the  busy  shears.  The 
shearers  said  little;  they  paused  but  to  toss  over  a 
tied  fleece,  or  to  hone  a  blade,  dulled  by  the  sand  in 
the  wool,  or  momentarily  to  straighten  a  tired  back. 


BIG    BEN    THE    MORMON  63 

The  wool  car  rolled  down  the  aisle  and  back  again 
laden.  Steadily  the  sacks  were  packed,  and  tramped, 
and  at  a  shout  toppled  and  were  rolled  away.  Now 
there  was  a  big  tier  of  them;  the  last  number  was 
eighteen.  The  atmosphere  in  the  shed  was  pungent 
with  the  odor  of  sheep  and  of  perspiration.  Most  of 
the  shearers  had  stripped  to  their  undershirts.  The 
shed  floor  was  a  litter  of  wool.  Wool  was  every- 
where, as  dust  in  the  air  and  as  shreds  hanging  from 
projecting  splinters.  Occasionally  sounded  a  sharp 
scolding  exclamation  as  some  sheep  waxed  unruly. 

The  wool  buyers  had  driven  away. 

"  Well,  I've  sold  my  wool,"  informed  Mr.  Simms, 
as  he  joined  the  two  boys,  again  looking  in  upon 
the  shearing.  The  snip  of  the  shears  was  fascinat- 
ing. 

At  this  instant  Number  One,  having  finished  the 
sheep  upon  which  he  was  working,  straightened,  hung 
his  shears  on  a  nail  in  the  pen,  and  donning  his  coat 
clambered  out.  There  were  whoopees,  here  and  there 
among  the  pens,  and  other  shearers  were  climbing 
out. 

"  Dinner,"  quoth  Mr.  Simms.  "  Listen  to  the 
bell."' 

"  Better  eat  with  us,"  invited  Mr.  Admun. 

"  The  boys  and  I  will.  I  guess  the  rest  of  the  outfit 
will  take  their  chuck  in  camp,"  answered  Mr.  Simms. 

The  shearers  were  streaming  toward  the  boarding- 
hall,  and  crowded  to  wash  where  a  couple  of  wash- 
basins were  sitting  on  a  bench  by  a  force  pump.  A 
few  of  the  men  lingered  in  their  pens,  finishing  their 


64  THE    CIRCLE    K 

sheep;  but  the  majority  had  timed  themselves  to  the 
minute. 

Down  the  center  of  the  dining-hall  extended  a  long 
deal  table  which  could  accommodate  fifty,  easily. 
Before  each  chair  was  a  porcelain  plate,  cup,  knife  and 
fork,  and  at  intervals  were  platters  of  steaming  steak, 
boiled  potatoes,  stewed  tomatoes,  stewed  corn,  sliced 
bread,  dishes  of  gravy.  Along  the  table  moved  the 
cook's  assistant,  pot  in  hand,  filling  the  cups. 

"  Coffee  or  tea?  "  he  asked. 

"  Water  for  me,"  said  the  shearer  on  Phil's 
left. 

He  was  Number  Ten — the  shaggy,  silent,  almost 
gloomy  and  decidedly  bandit-appearing  champion. 
Phil  counted  it  a  stroke  of  good  fortune  to  get  him 
for  a  neighbor;  and  on  the  other  side  of  Chet,  at 
Phil's  right,  was  the  affable  Number  One. 

"  I've  tasted  naught  stronger  than  water  for  twenty 
years,"  volunteered  the  shaggy  man.  "  I  drink  not 
of  alcohol  nor  eat  nor  smoke  of  tobacco,  nor  take 
the  name  of  the  Lord  in  vain.  Yet  once  I  was  as  wild 
as  any  of  ye." 

He  munched  slowly  with  his  great  hairy  chops, 
while  Phil  cogitated  over  the  announcement. 

"  You  must  have  been  shearing  a  great  many 
years,"  Phil  ventured. 

"  More  years  than  you  are  years  old,  lad,"  an- 
swered the  hairy  man.  "  I'm  a  California  shearer." 
He  spoke  as  if  proudly — ^but  checked  himself.  "  Yea, 
I  started  in  for  the  glory  of  self  and  the  money  I 
could  make;  but  I  shear  now  for  the  glory  of  God, 


BIG   BEN   THE   MORMON  65 

to  promote  the  purposes  for  which  he  placed  the 
woolly  creatures   upon  earth." 

If  the  man  was  not  mocking,  then  this  was  good 
to  say  from  the  heart;  if  he  was  mocking,  then  he 
blasphemed  by  trifling  with  sacred  matters.  But 
he  spoke  seriously. 

"  I  see,"  said  Phil,  deciding  to  humor  him.  "  How 
many  can  you  shear  in  a  day,  anyway  ?  " 

The  man  glanced  at  him  momentarily  from  under 
big  brows. 

"  Some  days  more,  some  days  less,  depending  upon 
the  will  of  the  Lord,  whether  he  sends  me  easy  wool 
and  nerves  my  hand  aright.  I  have  sheared  my  over 
two  hundred,  when  I  was  young,  and  tied  my  own 
fleeces.  But  there  was  never  a  man  or  boy  in  that 
gang  who  couldn't  shear  his  two  hundred  the  day, 
and  drink  and  dance  the  night.  Shearing  then  was 
our  trade,  lad;  to-day  it  is  but  an  incident,  and  we 
take  no  pride  in  it.  As  for  me,  I  have  sheared  with 
the  same  gang  through  six  states  and  territories  in  a 
season,  saving  never  a  cent  but  spending  my  wages 
and  my  immortal  soul  on  the  blackest  evils  of  life. 
Now  I  give  praise  that  I  have  turned  from  those 
ways  and  lead  a  sober  and  honest  life  as  a  follower 
of  Joseph  Smith." 

He  munched  and  drank  of  his  water. 

"  You're  a  Mormon  ?  "  inquired  Phil. 

"  I  am.  We're  all  Mormons  in  this  shearing  com- 
pany." 

''  I  haven't  seen  our  man,  yet ;  but  I  think  he'll 
shear  you  for  a  match.    What  do  you  want  to  bet?  " 


66  THE    CIRCLE    K 

''  I  tempt  not  the  Lord  by  making  wagers,"  replied 
the  whiskered  man,  yet  without  reproof.  "But  for 
the  extra  effort  there  should  be  an  extra  wage.  I 
shear  no  match  for  the  mere  vainglory  of  vanquish- 
ing another." 

"  We'll  all  chip  in  then  and  make  up  a  purse ;  won't 
we,  Phil,"  proffered  Chet.  "  How  much  would  you 
want?  "  he  queried  of  Big  Ben. 

"  If  the  laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire,  the  extra 
wage  should  be  fifty  dollars,"  answered  Big  Ben. 

When  the  boys  had  finished,  so  had  Number  One; 
and  as  they  stolled  out,  content  with  inward  sensa- 
tion, he  joined  them. 

"  Well,"  he  asked;  "  is  Big  Ben  going  to  shear  for 
you?" 

"  He  said  he  would  if  we  got  up  a  purse  of  fifty 
dollars;  but  he  won't  bet,"  answered  Phil. 

"  No,  we  Mormons  are  not  much  in  favor  of  bet- 
ting," responded  Number  One,  soberly.  "And  you 
couldn't  get  old  Ben  to  bet.  Did  he  tell  you  about 
his  wild  days  ?  " 

"Just  mentioned  them." 

"  He  was  a  bad  one.  He's  killed  more  than  one 
man,  they  say.  But  those  times  he  doesn't  like  to  talk 
of.  Now  there's  not  a  steadier  or  more  God-fearing 
man  in  Utah.  He  can  crumple  a  horseshoe  in  the 
palm  of  his  hand — ^yes,  he  can  bend  a  railroad 
spike;  I've  seen  him.  It  was  woe  to  the  man  who 
stood  in  his  path  when  he  was  angered.  But  to-day 
he  is  as  you  see  him.  He  bends  his  own  will,  not 
horseshoe  or  spike."     Number  One  lighted  his  pipe; 


BIG   BEN    THE    MORMON  67 

and  continued  more  briskly.  *'  But  bring  on  your 
man.  You'll  have  to  match  up  to-morrow,  won't 
you?  Your  sheep  will  be  cleaned  by  the  next 
noon.'* 

"  Yes,  to-morrow's  all  right,"  answered  Chet.- 

**  How  many  have  you  sheared,  already?"  asked 
Phil.  Number  One  was  more  affable  than  Number 
Ten. 

"  We'll  go  and  see,"  quoth  Number  One. 

They  walked  through  the  shearing  shed,  and  Num- 
ber One  vaulted  into  his  pen.  He  counted  the  strings 
in  his  bunch. 

"  Thirty-seven,"  he  sighed.  "  But  by  six  o'clock 
I'll  have  my  eighty  odd,  which  is  enough  for  the  first 
day.  At  about  the  third  day  I'll  have  worked  up  to 
one  hundred,  and  by  the  second  week,  I'll  be  shear- 
ing my  hundred  and  five  and  hundred  and  ten." 

"So  that's  how  you  keep  track,  is  it?"  exclaimed 
Phil.     "  By  the  strings." 

"  By  the  strings  I  have  left,  and  by  tally,  too. 
See — on  this  board  here  I  tally  the  penfuls  that  I 
empty.  Then,  Mr.  Admun  keeps  count,  too.  He 
checks  up  on  us." 

The  shearers  loafed  about,  taking  their  nooning. 
Big  Ben  and  another  man  ground  their  shears  on  a 
grindstone.  Nobody  began  work,  until  at  the  stroke 
of  one  (which  was  no  stroke  at  all,  but  was  indicated 
by  the  foreman  snapping  his  watch  and  climbing  into 
his  own  pen)  the  snip,  snip  was  resumed.  And  the 
shearing  went  on. 

Jhe  foreman  of  the  Box  had  dined  in  the  dining- 


6S  THE    CIRCLE    K 

hall,  and  he  and  Mr.  Simms  and  Mr.  Admun  were  talk- 
ing, earnestly. 

'*  I  hate  to  believe  it,"  said  Mr.  Admun,  in  his 
booming  voice.  "  That  Black  Mesa's  been  sheep  range 
as  much  as  cow  range.  Nobody  don't  own  it.  I  reckon 
you  fellows  can  hold  your  own." 

"This  man  can;  I've  seen  him,"  asserted  Mr. 
Simms,  grimly,  but  with  a  half  smile  also,  referring  to 
the  lank,  bullet-headed  sheepman.  "  And  I've  done 
it,  in  time  gone  by." 

"  Nobody  runs  over  me  if  I  can  help  it,"  stated  the 
sheepman,  calmly,  but  with  his  characteristic  flicker 
of  the  eyelids.  "  They  can  post  the  Black  Mesa  if 
they  want  to  an'  as  much  as  they  want  to.  That's 
where  I  lambed  last  year  an'  where  I  lamb  this  year 
an'  mebbe  next.  They  can't  run  a  dead-line  through 
neutral  ground,  like  that." 

"  I  don't  reckon  it's  in  earnest,"  said  Mr.  Admun. 
"  Some  of  them  cow-punchers  are  trying  to  act  smart, 
is  all,  and  scare  you." 

*'  I  don't  scare,"  answered  the  sheepman. 

"  I  never  have — not  easy,"  declared  Mr.  Simms. 

"Are  we  going  there,  then,  dad?"  queried  Chet, 
eagerly. 

"Where?" 

"  On  the  Black  Mesa,  to  lamb?  " 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder." 

"Aw,  Phil;  think  of  fighting  for  sheep.  Maybe 
that's  what  we'll  have  to  do ! "  scoffed  Chet,  his  cow- 
puncher  blood  rebelling. 

"  Makes  some  difference  whose  sheep  they  are — 


BIG   BEN   THE   MORMON  69 

yourn  or  the  other  fellow's,  sonny,"  boomed  Mr. 
Admun.    "  Have  you  arranged  that  shearing-match?  " 

"  The  other  man  will  do  it,  if  Luis  will,"  an- 
swered Chet,  dubiously.  "  But  we  have  to  get  up 
a  purse." 

"How  much?" 

"  Fifty  dollars.  Big  Ben  says.  He  won't  do  it  for 
less." 

"  Won't,  eh  ?    What  do  you  say,  Simms  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  we  can  raise  our  share,"  responded  Mr. 
Simms,  casually,  but  promptly. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  GREAT  SHEARING  MATCH 

The  details  were  planned  that  evening,  and  in  the 
morning  the  arrangements  were  this  wise : 

Big  Ben  had  pens  Nine  and  Ten;  Luis,  the  Califor- 
nian  Indian,  had  pens  Nineteen  and  Twenty,  op- 
posite. 

Thus  one  pen  of  each  pair  could  always  be  kept 
supplied  with  sheep  material,  and  each  man  need  but 
to  vault  from  his  emptied  pen  over  into  his  filled  one, 
and  keep  shearing. 

Who  would  wrangle  and  attend  to  filling  the  pens  ? 

"  I  wrangle  for  Luis.  Bueno.  I  an'  Meester  Chet 
an'  Meester  Phil,"  volunteered  Hombre. 

"That's  plenty,"  checked  Mr.  Simms,  grimly. 
"  We  need  somebody  to  attend  the  regular  shearing." 

The  Box  foreman  and  Bob  the  pens  wrangler  were 
appointed  for  Big  Ben ;  they  were  willing.  Mr.  Admun 
and  Mr.  Simms  would  keep  tally,  Mr.  Admun  on 
Luis  and  Mr.  Simms  on  Big  Ben. 

"  Now,  boys,  here  are  two  hundred  strings  apiece. 
Better  count  'em,"  instructed  Mr.  Admun.  "And 
here's  another  bunch  of  a  hundred.  You  finish  up 
the  two  hundred,  and  then  you  can  begin  on  the  hun- 
dred. That'll  simplify  matters,  and  show  you  where 
you're  at." 

70 


THE    GREAT    SHEARING   MATCH       71 

Both  men  nodded,  and  solemnly  counted  their 
bunches  of  strings. 

"  Are  you  all  ready  ?  '* 

"  Ready,"  said  Luis.  He  placed  a  toe  between  the 
boards  of  his  pen  Number  Nineteen,  and  his  hands 
upon  the  top,  ready  to  vault  in. 

"  Ready  here,"  quoth  Big  Ben,  nonchalantly.  He 
sauntered  to  his  pen  Number  Ten,  and  stood  beside 
it,  meditatively  looking  in  upon  the  sheep. 

"  Let  her  go,  then!  "  boomed  Mr.  Admun. 

The  word  had  not  been  spoken  when  Luis,  fairly 
boosted  by  the  excitable  Hombre,  with  the  spring  of  a 
panther  was  lithely  over,  and  seizing  a  sheep  had  set 
to  work. 

**  Bueno,  bueno !  "  uttered  Hombre,  dancing  about. 

Big  Ben  almost  leisurely  clambered  into  his  pen, 
and  with  the  snip  of  his  shears  was  a  full  half  minute 
behind  the  Californian.  But  as  he  snipped  he  struck 
up  a  hymn,  in  a  thunderous  voice : 

"  Awake,  my  soul !  Lift  up  thine  eyes ; 
See  where  thy  foes  against  thee  rise, 
In  long  array,  a  num'rous  host ; 
Awake,  my  soul !     Or  thou  art  lost." 

Snip,  snip,  snip,  were  going  the  shears,  all  down 
the  pens,  for  sheep  must  be  sheared  to-day  as  any  day, 
and  with  sixty  thousand  ahead  there  was  work  enough 
for  all.    Besides,  the  contest  was  young  yet. 

After  watching  Luis  for  a  short  time,  the  two  boys, 
Chet  and  Phil,  passed  across  to  watch  Big  Ben.  The 
rivals  worked  in  different  manner;  even  Phil  could 


•^2  THE   CIRCLE   K 

see  that.  Luis  was  lightning  in  his  movements,  clip- 
ping swiftly,  turning  his  sheep  with  a  jerk  and  some- 
times missing  a  stroke  in  his  haste  to  strike  into  the 
wool  before  the  animal  was  secure.  But  Ben  sheared 
steadily,  ploughing  broad  furrows  with  the  spread  of 
his  blades  and  the  grip  of  his  tremendously  strong 
thumb  and  fingers.  He  did  not  give  the  impression  of 
speed  that  the  nimble  Luis  did;  but  about  him  was  a 
constant,  sure,  regular  sequence  which  inspired  con- 
fidence. 

A  triumphant  whoop  came  from  Hombre.  Luis 
had  finished  his  first  penful  of  ten  sheep,  and  was 
springing  over  into  the  adjoining  pen,  while  Big  Ben 
was  still  upon  his  last  animal. 

Luis  was  already  a  sheep  ahead,  then !  Hurrah ! 

Quickly  the  sheared  penful  was  released,  and  ten 
more  sheep  were  driven  in;  and  now  could  be  heard 
the  clatter  from  the  opposite  chute  as  Big  Ben  also 
had  finished  his  first  pen. 

He  thundered  lustily,  as  he  worked: 

"  But  Thou  canst  bid  the  desert  bud 

With  more  than  Sharon's  rich  display; 
But  Thou  canst  bid  the  cooHng  flood 
Gush  from  the  rock  and  cheer  the  way. 

"  We  tread  the  path  Thy  people  trod, 
Alternate  sunshine,  bitter  tears  ; 
Go  Thou  before,  and  with  Thy  rod 
Divide  the  Jordan  of  our  fears." 

"  We're  beating,"  exclaimed  Chet.    "  Go  it,  Luis." 
"Yes;   Luis  he  go.     He  champion  in  Californy. 

Beat  everybody;  beat  dees  man,  too,"  agreed  Hombre, 

eyes  and  teeth  sparkling. 


THE    GREAT    SHEARING    MATCH       73 

Time  passed.  Through  the  handkerchief  bound 
about  the  Californian's  brow  the  perspiration  had 
soaked,  and  his  crimson  shirt  was  blotched  from  his 
wet  body.  But  he  still  was  lightning,  nervously 
forcing  the  quick  shears,  throwing  aside  one  sheep 
and  grabbing  another,  tieing  his  fleeces  with  a  jerk 
and  scarcely  lifting  his  head  to  toss  them  outside. 
Big  Ben  had  thrown  aside  his  broad-brimmed  hat;  it 
had  drifted,  unnoted,  into  a  corner.  Upon  his  fore- 
head also  the  perspiration  had  gathered,  and  occa- 
sionally a  drop  trickled  down  and  fell  from  the  hairs 
of  his  great  whiskers.  But  his  motions  were  appa- 
rently unhurried;  he  moved  methodically  but  steadily, 
and  anybody  very  observant  would  have  appreciated 
that  although  his  motions  were  so  unhurried,  not  one 
was  wasted.  His  shears  cut  their  broad,  powerful 
furrows;  every  snip  was  a  shear,  whereas  some  of 
Luis'  nervous  snips  cut  only  half  the  length  of  the 
blades. 

At  eleven  o'clock  it  seemed  as  though  Big  Ben  might 
be  a  sheep  or  two  behind.  In  the  haste  and  the  ex- 
citement both  Chet  and  Phil  had  missed  count. 

"  How  is  it  now  ?  "  asked  Number  One,  hurrying 
from  his  pen  to  watch  a  moment.  The  shearers  along 
the  shed  were  doing  this ;  now  and  then  knocking  off, 
and  spending  a  few  seconds  watching  and  getting  the 
news. 

"  Big  Ben's  two  sheep  behind,  I  think,"  replied 
Phil. 

Number  One  nodded  gravely. 

*'  That  doesn't  worry  him  none,  or  us  either,"  he 


74  THE    CIRCLE    K 

said.  "  The  day's  young  yet.  It's  not  noon  that  tells 
the  tale;  it's  night.  How  you  making  it,  Ben?"  he 
queried,  casually,  looking  in  upon  the  giant. 

"  As  the  Lord  wills>  brother,"  answered  Big  Ben, 
not  glancing  up. 

"  May  He  send  you  easy  sheep  and  a  strong  hand, 
then,"  quoth  Number  One.  **  That  you  may  smite  the 
Amalekite." 

Number  One  looked  in  upon  Luis,  the  Californian, 
and  shook  his  head. 

"  He'll  never  last,"  he  said,  as  he  walked  away  to 
his  own  pen.  "  He's  tired  now,  and  he  misses 
strokes.  And  I  hear  he  isn't  tieing  his  fleeces  so  they 
stick." 

But  at  noon  Luis  was  still  ahead  by  his  two  sheep, 
and  appeared  as  nimble  and  as  swift  as  ever. 

"  Now,  boys,"  warned  Mr.  Admun,  precisely 
at  twelve ;  and  the  two  shearers  promptly  quit,  leaving 
the  sheep  in  hand  partially  shorn. 

Luis  sprang  from  his  pen,  and  straightening  with- 
out an  apparent  effort  walked  springily  and  proudly 
away.  Hombre,  by  his  side,  looked  back,  and  waved 
his  arm  and  flashed  his  white  teeth  triumphantly. 
The  other  shearers,  knocking  off  from  their  work 
and  climbing  out  of  their  pens,  gazed  after  soberly,  or 
with  murmured  jest. 

In  his  pen  Big  Ben,  after  hanging  up  his  shears, 
straightened  only  slowly,  and  with  a  grim.ace  rubbed 
the  small  of  his  back;  then  donning  his  hat  he  also 
emerged  from  the  enclosure,  climbing  forth,  with  no 
vain  show  of  vaulting.     His  great  beard  was  dank, 


THE    GREAT    SHEARING    MATCH       75 

his  eyes  were  red-rimmed  by  the  dust  from  the  wool, 
and  glowed  with  a  sombre  light.  He  worked  his 
hairy  hands,  spreading  thumb  and  fingers  and  con- 
tracting them  again,  as  if  testing  for  any  flaw  which 
might  have  developed. 

"  How  goes  it,  brother?  "  asked  a  Mormon. 

"  One  hundred  and  fourteen,"  said  Big  Ben,  as  he 
walked  away  for  the  wash  basins  and  there  was 
presently  laving  his  eyes  and  face  and  soaking  his 
hands,  letting  the  water  flow  over  his  wrists. 

One  hundred  and  fourteen!  That  was  a  day's 
shearing  and  more  than  a  day's  shearing,  already. 

Somebody  jumped  into  each  pen  and  counted  the 
strings. 

"  Hundred  and  fourteen  is  correct. 

"  Hundred  and  seventeen  here,"  announced  the 
man  in  Luis'  pen. 

Hah!  Then  Luis  was  three  sheep,  and  not  only 
two,  ahead. 

"  That  agrees  with  the  tallies,"  admitted  Mr. 
Admun,  consulting  an  old  envelope.  "  That  Califor- 
nian  sure  is  lightning — if  he  can  keep  up  the 
pace." 

"  Aye,  if  he  can  keep  up  the  pace,"  responded  the 
Mormon  foreman.  "  And  even  then  he'll  not  set  any 
high  mark.  More  sheep  than  two  hundred  and  thirty- 
four  have  been  shorn  in  a  day  of  ten  hours." 

"  Yes,  and  Big  Ben  has  done  it,"  quoth  another, 
quietly. 

"  He'll  have  to  do  better  than  he's  been  doing, 
then,"  spoke  Chet,  boldly. 


7_6  THE   CIRCLE   K 

"  I  told  you  to  wait.  Wait,"  reminded  Number 
One. 

So  into  the  elation  of  the  Circle  K  crept  a  sensation 
of  uneasiness. 

"  How  are  you  feeling,  Luis,"  asked  Phil,  as  soon 
as  he  could,  after  dinner. 

"  He  all  right.  He  champion  shearer,"  asserted 
Hombre,  sticking  close  as  spokesman  and  attendant. 
"  He  t'ree  sheeps  ahead ;  mebbe  more  by  night,  hey, 
Luis,  amigo  ?  '* 

Luis  smiled  and  stretched  himself  flat,  like  an 
athlete,  on  the  ground,  in  the  sun.  But  Big  Ben  was 
sitting,  leaning  against  a  stanchion  of  the  shearing 
shed  interior,  rubbing  and  kneading  his  wrists  and 
working  his  hands. 

At  the  call  of  one  o'clock  the  contest  was  on  again. 
As  in  the  morning,  Luis  was  first  with  the  snip  of  his 
shears.  However,  as  if  girded  afresh  for  the  fray. 
Big  Ben  seemed  to  spread  a  new  atmosphere.  There 
was  something  about  him,  as  he  settled  to  his  work, 
which  spelled  confidence.  His  shears  cut  wide  and 
straight  and  firm,  faltering  never,  making  never  a 
stroke  which  must  be  repeated;  and  against  his  knees 
he  held  the  sheep  as  in  a  vise.  They  turned  to  his  every 
pressure.  While  he  sheared,  he  launched  again  into 
a  hymn: 

"  A  church  without  a  prophet  is  not  the  church  for  me ; 
It  has  no  head  to  lead  it,  in  it  I  would  not  be ; 

But  I've  a  church  not  built  by  man, 

Cut  from  the  mountains  without  hand, 
A  church  with  gifts  and  blessings,  oh,  that's  the  church  for  me ; 
Oh,  that's  the  church  for  me,  oh,  that's  the  church  for  me. 


THE    GREAT    SHEARING    MATCH       jy 

"A  church  without  apostles  is  not  the  church  for  me ; 
It  's  like  a  ship  dismasted  afloat  upon  the  sea ;  " 

As  the  words  resounded  along  the  shed,  here  and 
there  the  Mormons  in  the  pens  took  them  up,  until 
from  end  to  end  a  hearty  chorus  rang : 

"A  church  with  good  foundations,  oh,  that  's  the  church  for  me, 

♦•  The  hope  that  Gentiles  cherish  is  not  the  hope  for  me  ; 
It  has  no  hope  for  knowledge,  far  from  it  I  would  be  ; 
But  I've  a  hope  that  will  not  fail, 
That  reaches  safe  within  the  vail, 
Which  hope  is  like  an  anchor,  oh,  that  's  the  hope  for  me." 

It  impressed  Phil  oddly;  it  reminded  him  of  a 
camp-meeting  which  once  he  had  attended,  years  (at 
least,  several  years)  back.  In  the  singing  was  some- 
thing fierce,  exultant — as  if  boding  ill  for  the  hopes 
of  the  Circle  K. 

"Luis,  he  no  sing;  he  work,"  explained  Hombre, 
zealously. 

"  Well,  he's  only  two  sheep  ahead,  now,"  remarked 
Mr.  Simms,  quietly.  "  That  Mormon  is  just  striking 
his  gait." 

"  He's  shearing  left-handed!  "  exclaimed  Chet,  sud- 
denly.    "He's  changed!" 

For  Big  Ben  had  shifted  his  shears  from  right 
hand  to  left,  and  was  working  as  deftly  and  as 
strongly  as  before;  yes,  more  strongly,  as  seemed; 
for  presently  Luis  was  only  one  sheep  ahead. 

"  That's  his  secret,"  nodded  Mr.  Admun.  "  He's 
two  handed,  and  both  hands  are  his  best." 

"  How's  the  war  ?  "  queried  Ford,  coming  in  dusty 
and  panting  from  the  corral. 


J78  THE    CIRCLE   K 

"That  Beeg  Ben,  he  shear  with  both  hands,"  an- 
nounced the  voluble,  excited  Hombre.  *'  Luis,  he 
shear  with  one  hand;  no  good  with  both  hands.  I 
t'ink  that  no  fair  play.     What  you  t'ink?" 

"  I  think  that  Luis'  name  is  Dennis,"  answered 
Ford,  glancing  in  upon  both  contestants. 

"No;  hees  name  Luis;  Luis  Francisco  Castillo  de 
Cordova,"  corrected  Hombre.  "  He  champion  shearer 
of  sheeps,  but  he  shear  with  one  hand." 

"  He'll  have  to  shear  with  both  hands  and  with  his 
feet,  too,"  declared  Mr.  Simms,  "  if  he  expects  to  beat 
out  this  Mormon.  Hi,  look  at  that!  Last  string  in 
the  two  hundred  bunch  is  gone." 

"  Same  with  Luis,"  announced  Phil,  quickly. 
"  That's  two  hundred  apiece,  then.  Now  they're 
even." 

But  Big  Ben  had  caught  up.  The  news  traveled 
along  the  aisle,  from  pen  to  pen,  where  the  shearers 
were  working  and  listening,  too.  Some  voice  struck 
up  with  a  line  or  so  of  the  hymn,  but  ceased. 

"  We  mustn't  stand  that.  Let's  give  them  the  nine 
'rahs,  for  Luis,  son,"  proposed  Ford.  "  He  needs  en- 
couragement when  the  other  team  has  the  ball." 

"  Fm  game,"  answered  Phil,  readily.  And  together 
they  cheered: 

"  'Rah,  Vah,  'rah !  'Rah,  'rah,  'rah !  'Rah,  'rah,  'rah ! 
Luis!" 

"  Again,"  bade  Ford.  "  We  won't  try  the  whole 
name." 

And  this  time  assisted  by  Chet  they  cheered  again. 
Above  the  shearing  pens  perspiring  heads  protruded 


THE    GREAT    SHEARING    MATCH       79 

curiously  for  a  moment;  some  of  the  shearers 
laughed. 

"  What  you-all  makin'  such  noise  f oh  ? "  asked 
Haney,  arriving.  *'  Ain't  gone  crazy  this  early,  are 
you?  Expect  to  go  crazy  myself  aftuh  I'm  out  on 
the  range  awhile  with  the  woollies." 

"  No.  We're  cheering  because  we're  licked,"  said 
Ford. 

The  Texan  grunted. 

*'  Ain't  much  on  that  kind  of  a  cheer,  me,"  he  com- 
mented. "  When  I'm  licked,  I'm  too  out  o'  breath 
runnin'  away,  or  else  I'm  daid." 

But  the  Circle  K  was  not  necessarily  licked  yet. 
Sheep  for  sheep  the  two  shearers  were  working;  with 
almost  simultaneous  movement  changing  pens,  after 
their  allotment  of  ten  each  was  finished,  to  commence 
upon  another  ten. 

Twice  they  did  this,  and  it  was  only  through  the 
warning  of  Mr.  Admun  that  the  end  was  forecasted. 

"  Your  Calif ornian's  hard  on  sheep,"  he  com- 
mented, aside,  to  Mr.  Simms.  "  Look  at  the  blood. 
He  taking  off  the  mutton  with  the  wool.  That  means 
he's  tired.    He  don't  shear  true  no  more." 

"  I've  been  noticin'  that  myself,"  said  Old  Jess, 
who  had  strolled  up,  an  interested  observer.  "  There's 
enough  good  meat  stickin'  to  those  pelts  to  make  a 
chile  con  carne.  What  you  sellin'  'em  for,  George? 
.Wool  or  mutton  ?  " 

'*  He'll  have  to  stop  that,"  assured  Mr.  Simms. 
"  I'll  lose  the  match,  but  I  won't  have  my  sheep  cut 
all  up.    Tell  him,  Hombre." 


8o  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"  I  t'ink  he  tired,"  admitted  Hombre,  ruefully. 
"  That  other  man  he  use  both  hands.    No  fair." 

The  Californian  breed  (for  he  was  a  mingling  of 
Indian  and  Spanish)  plainly  was  in  distress.  He 
panted  painfully,  and  drove  his  shears  now  by  sheer 
force  of  will.  He  staggered  as  he  shoved  aside  his 
sheep,  tied  his  fleece,  managed  to  toss  it  over  blindly 
and  grasped  for  a  new  animal.  The  handkerchief 
about  his  brow  was  saturated  with  perspiration,  and 
so  was  his  crimson  shirt,  and  the  knees  of  his  over- 
alls, and  the  seat  of  them,  drawn  tight  as  he 
stooped. 

But  Big  Ben  was  as  ever ;  perspiring,  it  is  true,  until 
the  drops  trickled  down  his  whiskers,  yet  shearing 
with  the  same  masterful,  clean,  wide  strokes,  powerful 
and  sure  and  steady. 

Suddenly  there  came  from  Luis'  pen  a  muttered 
word  or  two,  in  strange  language;  and  Hombre  cried 
out,  dolefully. 

"  He  got  cramp.  See  ?  Cannot  get  shears  off.  I 
help  heem."    And  leaped  in  to  the  rescue. 

For  the  Californian,  trying  to  straighten  his  stiff 
back  and  limbs,  was  holding  out  his  right  hand,  which 
seemed  frozen  to  the  shears-— or,  in  its  appearance, 
with  the  cords  standing  forth  and  the  veins  swollen, 
as  if  fast  to  a  live  electric  wire. 

Hombre  caught  the  hand  and  unflexed  the  thumb 
and  fingers,  and  while  the  shears  fell  to  the  floor 
solicitously  rubbed,  talking  in  Mexican. 

Luis,  relieved,  shook  his  head.  He  climbed  out  of 
the  pen.     He  did  not  vault,  as  before;  he  climbed, 


THE    GREAT    SHEARING   MATCH       8i 

wearily,  and  saying  not  a  word,  went  out  into  the 
sun  and  stretched  flat  in  the  sage. 

"  All  off,  I  reckon,"  quoth  Old  Jess. 

**  Luis,  he  say  he  can  shear  no  more.  He  shear  two 
hundred  an'  fourteen,  an'  he  get  cramp.  Could  shear 
many  more  if  he  no  get  cramp,"  explained  Hombre. 
"  Pen  too  small,  he  say,  anyway." 

"That's  right.  Never  knew  an  Indian  who 
wouldn't  quit  if  he  could  when  he  was  gettin' 
licked,"  said  Old  Jess.     "Bah!" 

"  Well,  he  was  hired  for  a  herder,  not  a  shearer, 
Jess,"  reminded  Mr.  Simms,  with  a  laugh. 

"He  good  herder,  too,"  asserted  Hombre,  anxi- 
ously; and  squatting  beside  Luis,  his  friend,  rolled  a 
cigarette. 

Out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  Big  Ben  must  have 
seen.  Suddenly,  like  a  paean  welled  from  him  a 
mighty  song,  rumbling  and  boisterous : 

"  Hurrah  for  your  cringing,  blethering  beast  I 

For  we  are  the  shearing  men  ! 
We  rollick  our  way  from  West  to  East 

And  swagger  it  back  again. 
There  's  food  and  drink  and  a  life  so  hale, 

There  's  silver  and  work  and  play, 
For  those  who  follow  the  shearing  trail 

From  Cali-for-nia-a-a-a-a! '' 

"  Quit  if  you  want  to,  Ben,"  boomed  Mr.  Admun, 
looking  in  upon  him;  and  the  others  crowded  around. 
"  The  Injun's  quit.     He's  out.     Purse  is  yourn." 

Big  Ben  glanced  up,  with  smouldering  fierce  eyes — 
twain  eyes,  deep  set,  glowering  amidst  the  thicket  of 


82  THE    CIRCLE    K 

his  hair.  He  shook  his  matted  head,  and  with  the 
movement  flung  aside  his  hat. 

"  Shear  for  a  record,  eh  ?  "  resumed  Mr.  Admun. 
"All  right.    Go  to  it." 

Big  Ben's  paean  died  to  a  croon,  and  he  snipped 
on.  With  never  a  word,  sheep  after  sheep  he  handled, 
while  as  in  the  morning  comrade  after  comrade  left 
the  pens  below  to  walk  up,  look  in  a  moment,  and 
hasten  back  to  their  own  work.  The  word  that  the 
Californian  had  dropped  out,  and  that  now  Big  Ben 
was  shearing  for  a  record,  had  reached  every  ear. 

Luis,  accompanied  by  Hombre,  strolled  to  get  a 
drink  at  the  pump  near  the  dining-hall ;  then  he,  also, 
joined  the  group  about  the  pen  wherein  Big  Ben  toiled. 
He  smiled,  and  at  any  queries  shook  his  head,  and 
ruefully  held  out  his  right  hand,  swollen  and  trem- 
bling. Evidently  he  thought  that  he  had  done  his 
best. 

Twas  past  five  o'clock.  Big  Ben  had  not  faltered. 
His  second  bunch  of  strings  had  melted  away  so  that 
now  scarcely  half  of  the  hundred  remained. 

"  Jiminy !  "  muttered  Chet,  admiringly,  under  his 
breath. 

As  six  o'clock  drew  nigh,  even  faster  but  no  less 
steadily  sheared  Big  Ben.  Many  of  the  other  shearers 
had  knocked  off  early,  and  now  they  gathered  to  wit- 
ness the  finish. 

''  Quarter  to  six,"  announced  Mr.  Admun.  "  He'll 
not  finish  out  those  strings,  but  he'll  come  near  it; 
and  he'd  do  it,  too,  if  it  wasn't  for  tieing  the  fleeces.*' 

The  minutes  passed.     As  if  on  the  home-stretch 


THE    GREAT    SHEARING   MATCH       83 

Big  Ben  again  struck  up  a  paean — not  this  time  the 
Cahfornia  shearing  paean,  but  another  Mormon 
hymn  : 

"  In  thy  mountain  retreat 
God  shall  strengthen  thy  feet, 

On  the  neck  of  thy  foes  shalt  thou  tread; 
And  their  silver  and  gold, 
As  the  prophets  have  told, 

Shall  be  brought  to  adorn  thy  fair  head. 

"  Oh,  Zion,  dear  Zion,  home  of  the  free, 
Soon  thy  towers  will  shine 
With  a  splendor  divine. 
And  eternal  thy  glories  shall  be." 


The  throng  about  his  pen  joined  in,  and  the  lines 
swelled  loud.  The  sheep  against  his  knees  was  shorn. 
Quickly  he  tied  the  fleece,  and  just  as  Mr.  Admun  said, 
in  sharp  tone :  "  Six  o'clock,"  he  slowly  straightened 
and  lifted  it  high.  He  stood  holding  it,  his  eyes 
flaming,  until  the  last  verse  was  completed. 

"  Two  hundred  and  seventy-three,"  he  roared, 
exultant,  towering  like  a  hairy  giant.  And  he  swore  a 
big  oath.  "  Is  there  any  Calif ornian  shearer  who  can 
beat  that?" 

He  hurled  the  fleece  from  him;  his  shears  fell  clat- 
tering as  he  kicked  them  aside.  Where  the  crowd 
silently  parted  for  him  he  clambered  out,  and  stalked 
away,  with  head  bowed. 

*'  Men,"  addressed  Mr.  Admun,  "  that's  some  shear- 
ing. It  sets  the  mark,  or  I'm  mistaken.  You  two  lads 
of  the  Circle  K  have  seen  a  feat  you'll  not  soon  see 
again,  I  reckon.    Two  hundred  and  sixty  sheep,  in  ten 


84  THE   CIRCLE    K 

hours,  fleeces  tied,  was  the  record  before  Big  Ben 
set  a  new  one." 

Now  a  cheer  arose;  the  men  flocked  to  supper,  but 
Big  Ben  was  not  among  them,  and  the  two  boys  looked 
about  for  him. 

At  the  farther  side  of  the  shed  they  came  upon  him, 
kneeling  in  the  sage  there,  his  head  low  forward  from 
his  shoulders.    His  voice  rumbled  and  quavered. 

"  He's  praying !  "  whispered  Chet,  clutching  Phil's 
arm.    They  stopped  short. 

Presently  Big  Ben,  with  a  groan,  arose.  He  strode 
toward  the  boys.  His  face  was  haggard  and  dark. 
There  was  no  use  in  retreating,  so  Phil  addressed  him 
boldly. 

"  We  were  looking  for  you  to  congratulate  you,"  he 
proffered.  "  That  record  will  stand  for  a  long  time. 
Two  hundred  and  seventy- three — whew !  " 

"  It  shore  was  some  shearing,"  chimed  in  Chet. 

Big  Ben  gazed  down  upon  them  gloomily. 

"  Never  again  will  I  set  my  hand  to  the  buck,"  he 
said.  "  I  have  lifted  up  my  voice  in  pride,  I  have  taken 
the  name  of  the  Lord  my  God  in  vain,  and  I  have  em- 
ployed the  skill  which  he  hath  given  me  in  the  lust  of 
worldly  strife.    He  hath  bid  me  cease,  and  I  am  done." 

He  stalked  away.  And  sure  enough,  early  the  next 
morning,  with  scarce  a  word  to  anybody,  Big  Ben, 
carrying  his  bundle,  took  the  road  for  the  station,  and 
for  his  farm  in  Utah. 


CHAPTER  VII 

LAMBING    RANGE   WARNINGS 

Divided  into  three  instead  of  two  bands  were  now 
the  Circle  K  sheep,  cut  out  and  apportioned  as  they 
issued  from  the  shorn-sheep  corral.  Under  Haney  the 
Texan  cowboy  and  Hombre  the  Mexican,  under  Ford, 
the  Harvard  and  Boston  man  and  Luis  the  Californian, 
under  Phil  and  Chet  and  Gus  the  Wyoming  herder, 
in  the  three  detachments  of  some  fifteen  hundred 
each  they  trailed  from  the  vicinity  of  the  pens,  and  in 
the  afternoon  sun  went  baaing  and  trotting  onward 
into  the  east.  As  they  streamed  out,  the  first  band 
of  the  Box  outfit  streamed  in,  for  the  shearers.  An- 
other outfit  was  in  the  horizon.  And  at  the  same  time, 
with  creak  of  leather  and  clink  of  chain,  and  sharp 
shout  of  driver  as  he  uncurled  his  long  lash  over  their 
backs,  a  twelve-horse  wool-train  settled  into  their 
traces,  starting  with  the  first  consignment  of  the  Circle 
K  wool  for  the  warehouse  and  station  twenty  miles 
distant.  There  were  one  hundred  and  nineteen  sacks, 
weighing  each  over  three  hundred  pounds,  in  the  Circle 
K  tiers. 

Ford  and  Luis  had  the  lead;  on  the  right,  so  as  to 
follow  where  there  was  grazing  en  route,  were  the 
boys  and  Gus,  on  the  left  were  Haney  and  Hombre. 
And  well  satisfied  were  the  boys  to  be  assigned  to  the 

85 


86  THE    CIRCLE    K 

company  of  Gus,  who  knew  sheep,  and  who  had  Kitty 
the  dog.  Mr.  Simms  had  ridden  ahead  with  Old  Jess 
and  the  burro  pack-train,  to  locate  the  camps. 

White,  gaunt,  long-legged,  with  the  big  black  Cir- 
cle K  showing  so  plainly  ttpon  their  rumps,  traveling 
light  the  sheep  traveled  fast,  snatching  as  they  went 
at  the  herbage.  The  instructions  were  not  to  urge 
them,  but  fifty  lambs  had  now  arrived,  and  'twas  high 
time  that  the  whole  flock  was  placed  upon  the  lambing 
range,  with  its  good  water,  good  feed,  and  quiet. 

"  Do  you  think  we'll  have  trouble,  Gus  ?  "  called 
Phil,  from  his  station,  upon  Pepper,  behind  the  hurry- 
ing band. 

"Where?" 

"  On  the  lambing  range,  where  we're  going." 

"  Aw,  dad's  not  afraid,"  called  Chet  "  We  never 
heard  the  Black  Mesa  was  cattle  country,  especially. 
Dad  knows." 

"  But  the  Box  man  said  it  was  posted." 

"  Well,  if  we  have  trouble  we  will  have  trouble," 
said  Gus,  nonchalantly.  "  Twelve  hundred  sheep  and 
my  dog  they  killed  on  me  t'ree  years  ago." 

"Didn't  you  fight?"  called  Chet,  quickly. 

"  Not  very  hard.  I  was  one  man  and  they  were  fif- 
teen or  twenty.  You  have  to  t'ink  of  your  own  hide  in 
a  case  like  that.  I'd  have  simply  been  killed  myself, 
and  the  bosses  would  have  hired  another  herder — so  I 
would  have  been  out  of  a  job,  too ! " 

This  last  assertion  seemed  superfluous,  but  it  was 
grimly  delivered.  The  boys  cogitated.  Jhen  Chet 
spoke  half  defiantly: 


LAMBING    RANGE    WARNINGS  87 

"  Well,  the  cowmen  have  to  have  some  place  to  run 
their  cattle.  When  you  bring  your  sheep  in  you  spoil 
it,  and  we  won't  stand  for  that." 

"  Who  iss  we  ?  "  demanded  Gus. 

"  I  mean  the  cow  outfits.  I  forgot.  We're  running 
sheep  ourselves  now,"  admitted  Chet,  somewhat 
abashed.    And  Phil  must  laugh. 

"  Yes,  you  are.  And  you  will  find  that  makes  a 
difference  when  your  own  mutton  iss  piled  up,"  an- 
swered Gus,  with  his  slow,  careful  speech.  "  The  cattle- 
men t'ink  they  can  do  as  they  please,  and  that  sheep 
have  no  rights  to  graze  anywhere;  but  some  day  they 
will  meet  with  a  fight,  and  then  they  will  laugh  out  of 
the  other  side  of  their  mouths.  We  have  as  much 
rights  as  they  have,  on  open  range.  When  they  killed 
my  sheep  and  my  dog  that  I  had  had  for  many  years 
we  were  not  doing  one  bit  of  harm.  It  was  a  free 
country.  They  did  not  own  it  and  they  were  not  using 
it  all." 

"Well,"  began  Chet,  belligerently.     And  quit 

'*  You  joost  wait  till  your  own  sheep  are  piled  up 
and  your  dog  killed  too,"  reminded  Gus,  stolidly. 
"Then  you  will  know  more." 

When  behind  them  the  sun  was  touching  the  mesa- 
line  of  the  golden  west,  they  all  went  into  camp — a  dry 
camp  amidst  the  sage  where  already  Old  Jess  and  Mr. 
Simms  had  deposited  the  rolled-up  tents  and  the  night's 
supplies.  The  shearing  shed  and  associate  structures 
of  corrals  and  bunk-house  and  dining-hall  had  disap- 
peared ;  and  again  the  Circle  K  was  by  itself,  amidst  a 
wide,  monotonous  expanse  of  rolling  gray-green  brush. 


88  THE   CIRCLE    K 

By  the  time  that  out  of  the  smoke-pipes  projecting 
from  the  fronts  of  three  tents  the  supper  smoke  was 
wafting,  the  sun  had  sunk,  the  west  was  pale  lemon, 
the  east  was  pink,  and  overhead  the  dark  blue  sky 
was  faintly  pointed  with  the  first  stars.  Amidst  the 
dusky  sage  the  sheep  were  blatting,  wandering  to  and 
fro,  nibbling,  shoving,  wanting  water — only  the  few 
lambs  being  able  to  relieve  their  thirst  and  hunger  at 
the  same  time. 

**Do  you  notice?"  queried  Phil,  as  he  and  diet 
trudged  back  and  forth,  stumbling  and  tired  and 
empty,  trying  to  keep  their  band  in  compact  shape  and 
settle  it  for  the  night.  "  They  all  want  to  edge  toward 
the  west.  They're  trying  to  get  back  to  the  shearing 
pens,  where  they  were  corraled." 

"  No,  they  are  thinking  about  Utah,  where  they  came 
from,"  corrected  Chet.  "  Isn't  that  one  brown-legged 
thing  the  limit,  though?  He's  always  leading  off. 
He's  worse  than  that  white  mare  we  had  in  the 
round-up  bunch,  with  the  bay  chestnut  colt  that  was 
eaten  by  the  carcajou.    Get  in  there,  blame  you !  " 

"  Wish  we  had  the  dog,"  said  Phil. 

"  Who  ?  Gus's  ?  Aw,  he  wouldn't  let  anybody  have 
his  dog.    They  never  do." 

Yes,  there  was  a  constant  edging  of  the  sheep  to- 
ward the  west;  whenever  they  leaked  forth,  they  al- 
ways headed  instinctively  in  that  direction.  Through 
the  dim  gloaming  Gus  himself  came  trudging,  with 
Kitty. 

"How  are  they?"  he  asked. 

"  They  want  to  go  back  to  Utah,"  answered  Phil. 


LAMBING    RANGE    WARNINGS  89 

"  Yes,  they  want  to  go  back  to  Utah.  They  never 
have  been  over  this  road  before.  The  old  ones  came  in 
another  way.  But  they  will  remember  the  lambing 
range.  You  boys  go  ahead  and  finish  up  supper.  It 
iss  nearly  ready.  Kitty  and  I  will  settle  these  fool 
things;  hey,  Kitty?'' 

"  Come  on,"  said  Chet,  to  Phil.  But  they  both  sud- 
denly halted.  High  and  thin  arose  a  familiar  series 
of  yappy  barks,  ludicrous  and  excitable,  borne  in  from 
the  south. 

"  Coyote !  I  see  him,"  exclaimed  Chet.  "  Over 
there,  on  top  that  hill."    He  pointed. 

South  about  five  hundred  yards  was  a  sagy  knoll, 
with  bare  tip  of  shaly  rock.  The  sky  behind  was  still 
light,  and  limned  against  it  was  a  slim,  shaggy  figure 
like  a  dog,  sitting  upon  its  haunches,  with  nose  high 
held.  The  nose  was  sharp,  and  from  it  welled  again, 
as  if  the  coyote  was  inviting  attention,  that  inane 
chorus. 

"  He  might  have  been  a  dozen,  but  he  isn't,"  quoth 
Phil.     "Sic  him,  Kitty!" 

"Sic!  Sic!"  urged  Chet. 

But  Gus  called  abruptly. 

"  Here.    Come  back  here." 

Kitty,  who  had  bounded  away  with  tremendous 
unction,  as  if  to  eat  the  coyote  alive,  suddenly  halted, 
irresolute,  and  at  the  herder's  words  turned  and  came 
slinking  back. 

"  You  will  never  get  her  to  go  very  close  after  a 
coyote,"  said  Gus,  rather  peremptorily.  "  She  got 
her  dose  when  she  wass  a  pup," 


90  ;THE   CIRCLE    K 

"How  was  that?"  asked  Phil. 

"  You'd  better  tend  to  that  supper  while  I  tend  to  the 
sheep  and  den  we  can  tell  stories  to-night,  may  be," 
replied  Gus.  "  Hey,  you !  "  and  he  strode  hastily  after 
the  brown-legged  wether  who  was  again  leading  forth 
a  little  squad,  for  far  distant  Utah. 

"  Sure,"  consented  Phil. 

"  Shore,"  agreed  Chet. 

And  together  they  made  for  the  tent.  Here  the  fire 
but  needed  to  be  replenished,  the  potatoes  and  the 
coffee  to  be  set  back  over  the  hot  part  of  the  stove, 
the  meat  to  be  started  frying,  the  bread  to  be  looked 
after,  and  a  can  of  peas,  already  opened  and  dumped, 
to  be  heated.  The  lantern  was  lighted.  And  when 
everything  was  ready  (it  rather  was  fun,  to  be  cooking 
thus  independently,  out  on  the  range;  fun  for  Phil, 
at  least,  whose  cooking  experiences  had  been  limited 
although  Chet  was  an  old  hand  and  could  even  make 
bread)  Gus  and  Kitty  entered. 

"  They  won't  go  far  now  in  the  dark,"  said  Gus. 
"  But  we  will  have  to  ketch  dem  early  in  the  morning. 
The  minute  the  sun  rises  they  will  light  out." 

"  How  about  that  brown-legged  sheep  who's  always 
trying  to  sneak  off?  "  asked  Phil. 

"That  old  wether?  I  got  him  safe.  He  iss  tied. 
I  hobbled  him  and  he  can't  stir  till  morning,"  informed 
Gus,  calmly.  "  I  will  give  him  to  the  first  coyote  who 
asks  for  him.    He  iss  an  old  rascal." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  prompted  Phil.  "  And  what  about  Kitty 
and  the  coyotes  ?    Did  she  get  bitten  ?  " 

"  Now  I  will  tell  you,"  said  Gus,  as  they  munched. 


LAMBING    RANGE    WARNINGS         91 

squatting  in  the  light  of  the  lantern  around  the  box  up- 
turned for  a  table.  "  A  coyote  is  an  awful  smart  ani- 
mal, you  bet.  And  he  has  got  sharp  teeth,  too,  and  he 
can  fight  when  he  has  to,  but  he  won't  tackle  a  dog 
alone.  A  good  dog  can  w^hip  him  too  quick.  But  when 
t'ree  or  four  of  coyotes  are  together,  den  one  gets  up 
on  a  rise  like  that  coyote  did  to-night,  and  he  barks  and 
dares  the  dog  to  come  and  fight  him.  Puppies  and 
foolish  dogs  do  that.  Away  they  run,  to  fight  the 
coyote;  and  he  runs,  too— just  so  fast  that  they  can't 
catch  him.  And  he  leads  dem  right  to  where  the  odder 
coyotes  are  waiting,  and  den  they  all  jump  on  the 
dog  and  lick  him  well.  When  I  first  had  Kitty,  after 
my  odder  dog  wass  killed  by  the  cowboys,  she  wass 
young  and  foolish,  and  chased  a  coyote.  She  wouldn't 
come  back  when  I  called  to  her.  Oh,  no.  She  knew 
better.  But  pretty  soon  after  she  had  gone  I  heard  a 
big  yelping  and  ki-yi-ing  off  dere  in  the  brush ;  and  you 
bet  Kitty  come  fast  enough  without  calling,  with  four 
big  coyotes  nipping  her  well.  They  chased  her  almost 
right  into  me ;  and  den  they  run.  She  wass  a  very  sore 
dog  for  several  days,  weren't  you,  Kitty?  And  now 
she  doesn't  chase  a  coyote  very  far.  Dey  don't  fool 
her  again." 

Behind  the  stove  Kitty  sighed,  and  muttered  a  little 
reminiscent  growl,  as  if  she  had  understood. 

"  Coyotes  are  smart,  all  right,"  agreed  Chet,  as  he 
polished  his  tin  plate,  with  bread,  to  gather  the  last 
vestige  of  gravy. 

"  What  was  that  to-night?  A  dog  coyote?  "  asked 
Phil. 


92  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"  No;  old  mammy  coyote,  I  should  say.  After  you 
left  I  could  hear  her  pups,  too.  We  don't  want  any. 
old  dog  coyote  around — do  we,  Kitty.  He  iss  bad 
medicine  for  sheep.  Last  spring  I  had  an  old  fiend 
follow  my  band  for  t'ree  weeks,  taking  two  sheep  or 
lambs  a  day,  before  I  could  shoot  him." 

".What's  an  old  fiend?  "  asked  Chet. 

"  A  dog  coyote — or  sometimes  an  old  she  coyote — 
who  follows  along  and  hunts  in  the  flock.  Bear  and 
lion  and  coyote  like  mutton  the  best  of  anyt'ing;  and 
sometimes  a  coyote  will  get  after  a  bunch  of  sheep, 
especially  in  lambing,  and  stay  right  with  dem,  eating 
off  of  dem.  He  gets  so  he  will  kill  a  ewe  sheep  and 
won't  eat  anyt'ing  but  the  udder,  and  leaves  the  rest. 
He  iss  what  we  call  an  old  fiend;  and  we  have  to  kill 
him.  H  we  don't,  he  will  do  lots  of  damage.  Two  or 
t'ree  sheep  every  twenty-four  hours  mount  up  in  cost." 

"  What  do  you  do;  shoot  him?  "  asked  Phil. 

They  were  washing  and  wiping  the  dishes. 

"  Shoot  him  when  we  can  see  him ;  but  he  get  very 
sharp.  He  knows.  He  won't  go  into  a  trap,  you  bet. 
Some  herders  sink  a  fish-hook  in  a  piece  of  mutton, 
with  gloves  and  standing  on  a  gunny-sack,  and  tie  it 
to  a  stake  in  the  brush.  If  the  coyote  swallows  that 
it  sticks  in  his  t'roat,  and  then  we  have  him." 

"  But  that's  cruel,"  objected  Phil. 

"  Yes,  it  iss  cruel ;  but  we  get  the  coyote  and  he 
doesn't  get  any  more  of  our  sheep,"  answered  Gus, 
coolly. 

"  We've  cleaned  up  the  lambing  range,"  informed 
Chet. 


LAMBING    RANGE   WARNINGS  93 

"How?"  asked  Phil. 

"  Put  out  poison,  last  winter.  Dad  says  they  found 
forty-six  coyote  carcasses,  this  spring.     That  helps." 

"  Found  two  good  dogs,  too,"  supplemented  Gus. 
"  What  poisons  a  coyote  poisons  a  dog  just  as  quick 
— and  quicker,  for  a  dog  isn't  as  smart.  They 
weren't  sheep  dogs,  though.     They  were  cattle  dogs." 

"  Well,  if  we  get  any  old  fiend  after  our  band,  Phil 
and  I'll  shoot  him  for  you,"  proffered  Chet. 

"  You  will  have  a  chance.  As  soon  as  a  coyote 
hears  a  lamb  baa,  he  comes  mighty  fast.  I'd  rather 
have  a  bear  around  than  an  old  fiend  coyote.  And  a 
bear  iss  bad  enough." 

"What  does  he  do?" 

"  Bear  ?  You  won't  find  a  bear  out  here  in  the  sage. 
But  when  he  wants  mutton  he  will  come  right  along 
after  it,  and  he  will  pick  the  fattest  in  the  bunch,  too. 
So  will  a  coyote.  But  a  bear  will  sometimes  act  sort 
of  crazy  and  run  right  t'rough  a  whole  band,  striking 
right  and  left  and  taking  one  in  his  mout'  to  carry 
a  little  way  or  eat  on  the  spot.  A  lion  will  sneak  in 
and  kill  four  or  five  and  cut  their  t'roats  and  drink 
their  blood,  and  maybe  he  will  carry  part  of  a  carcass 
off  and  bury  it  for  anodder  meal.  Did  you  ever  see  a 
link?" 

"  Bob-cat,"  answered  both  the  boys,  together. 

"No;  not  bob-cat.  He  kills  sheep;  but  a  link,  I 
mean." 

"Lynx?"  queried  Phil. 

"  I  call  one  a  link,"  corrected  Gus,  unmoved.  He 
puffed  his  pipe.     "Two  would  be  lynx,  wouldn't  it? 


94  THE    CIRCLE    K 

A  link,  he  will  ride  right  on  the  backs  of  the  sheep, 
in  a  whole  bunch,  and  you  might  never  know  if  they 
did  not  act  queer." 

It  occurred  to  Phil  that  they  ought  to  act  queer, 
in  such  a  case! 

"  You  don't  see  a  link  very  often,"  continued  Gus. 
"  The  link  I  mean  iss  big  as  Kitty,  and  has  tassels  on 
his  ears." 

"  Canada  lynx,"  suggested  Phil. 

"  Yes ;  Canada  link.  I  saw  one  up  in  Montana, 
four  winters  ago.  He  killed  fourteen  sheep  in  one 
night,  and  we  shot  him  the  next  morning." 

Gus  pulled  off  his  shoes.     He  yawned. 

"  Last  in  bed  puts  out  the  light,"  declared  Chet, 
hastily  discarding  boots  and  coat,  and  crawling  under 
the  covers  next  to  Gus.  Phil,  a  little  dazed  with  the 
sudden  transition  from  wild  beasts  to  lantern  and  bed, 
was  the  one  to  put  out  the  light. 

Earlier  than  ever,  it  seemed  to  him,  was  the  Circle 
K  astir  the  next  morning.  But  then,  he  had  turned 
in  early,  also,  for  when  he  had  put  out  the  lantern  the 
time  had  not  arrived  at  nine  o'clock. 

The  day's  drive  was  taken  up,  after  breakfast,  and 
methodically  the  three  columns  proceeded  onward 
through  the  rolling  sage,  toward  the  south  of  east. 

"  Do  we  reach  the  lambing  range  this  afternoon, 
you  think  ?  "  asked  Phil,  calling  across  the  rear  of 
the  band  to  Gus. 

Gus  nodded,  pointing  ahead  as  if  it  were  already 
in  sight.  He  rode  lazily,  sitting  his  battered  saddle 
on  one  side,  more  like  an  Eastern  farmer  returning 


LAMBING    RANGE    WARNINGS  95 

contentedly  from  town  on  his  plongh-horse  than  Hke 
a  Westerner  amidst  the  open  range. 

The  course  was  directed  diagonally  athwart  a  shal- 
low, bare  valley  almost  a  fiat,  and  toward  a  low  ridge 
or  back  fringed  by  sparse  timber.  This  back  was 
reached  about  noon;  no  halt  was  made,  but  the  bands 
were  pushed  right  through.  Riding  along  after  the 
sheep — which  slipped  spryly  among  the  few  cedars  and 
pinons  and  pines  as  if  they  were  pleased  by  the  diver- 
sion— Phil  noted  with  the  corner  of  his  eye  Gus 
oblique  his  horse  and  within  a  few  paces  halt.  He 
appeared  to  be  examining  something  on  a  tree  trunk; 
Phil  turned  Pepper,  and  went  over,  curiously,  to  see 
also. 

It  was  a  poster  of  canvas,  printed  from  large  type, 
and  had  been  tacked  about  six  feet  up  on  the  trunk 
of  this  lightning-splintered  pine,  which  formed  a 
pointer  from  afar. 

NOTICE 

IS  HEREBY  GIVEN  TO  SHEEP  OWNERS  AND  THEIR  HERDERS. 

The  following  new  dead-line  has  been  established  be- 
tween the  sheepmen  and  the  cattlemen. 

Beginning  at  the  juncture  of  the  Big  and  Little  Cotton- 
woods,  thence  south  to  the  old  State  Road  bridge  across 
Chipetah  Creek,  thence  southwesterly,  keeping  west  of  the 
Black  Mesa,  to  the  first  rim-rock  of  the  northeast  point  of 
the  Mesa  Colorado.  Thence  along  the  eastern  base  of  the 
Mesa  Colorado  to  the  Rico  County  line. 

All  territory  lying  south  of  the  Big  Cottonwood  River 
and  west  of  this  line  is  Sheep  Ground;  all  territory  lying 
north  of  the  Big  Cottonwood  and  east  of  this  line  is  Cattle 
Ground. 

AND   NOTICE  IS  HEREBY  GIVEN   THAT  THESE  LIMITS  WILL 
BE   MOST   HOTLY   CONTESTED   FOR, 

Pated  :  March  I,  1900. 


g6  THE    CIRCLE    K 

Phil  read,  with  an  odd  chilly  sensation — as  if  some- 
body had  leveled  a  gun  at  him  with  the  order :  **  Hands 
up !  "  Much  of  the  phraseology  was  unintelligible  to 
him,  because  he  did  not  know  the  country;  but  the  im- 
port Vv^as  perfectly  clear,  driven  home  by  the  conclud- 
ing threat. 

This  was  a  dead-line  notice,  then ! 

Gus  had  finished  spelling  it  out  to  himself.  He  only 
shifted  to  the  other  side  of  his  saddle,  scratched  his 
head,  and  without  sign  of  emotion  kicked  his  horse 
and  passed  by. 

"  Is  that  one  of  those  notices  the  Box  foreman  spoke 
of  ?  "  interrogated  Phil,  keeping  beside  him  for  a  short 
distance. 

"  Might  be,"  answered  Gus,  phlegmatic. 

"  Where  does  that  line  run  ?  " 

"  Runs  behind  us,  now,"  asserted  Gus. 

"  Whereas  the  Black  Mesa?  " 

"Ahead,  yonder." 

"  Then  we  keep  on  going,  I  suppose." 

"  Sure.  Keep  on  going  till  we  get  dere,"  replied 
Gus,  gently.  "  We  did  not  put  any  notice  up  and  we 
were  not  asked  one  way  or  the  odder.  I  don't  know 
mooch  about  dose  lines,  anyhow;  but  I  know  where 
the  lambing-range  is." 

So  they  had  crossed  the  line.  What  would  the 
cattlemen  do !    Would  it  bring  capital  punishment  ? 

"  What  was  it  ? "  queried  Chet,  when  Phil  had 
trotted  over  to  position. 

"  Dead-line  notice." 

"NewQne?" 


LAMBING    RANGE    WARNINGS         97 

"Last  March." 

"What  did  it  say?" 

"  Told  sheep  to  keep  off  the  Black  Mesa." 

"Aw,  the  dickens!"  scoffed  Chet.  "We  aren't 
going  to  keep  off,  just  the  same;  and  they  can't  make 
ns.    It's  all  a  bluff,  I  bet  you." 

And  the  drive  continued  right  on  into  the  hostile 
country.  Occasionally  a  glimpse  was  to  be  had  of  the 
two  other  bands  of  the  Circle  K.  The  bluff  had  not 
worked.  Phil  must  smile  at  the  thought  of  Haney  and 
Ford,  and  Mr.  Simms  and  Old  Jess,  being  deterred 
by  any  hand-bill.  And  the  bullet-headed  Box  fore- 
man, either. 

The  sun  was  low  behind  when  the  band  of  Circle  K 
woollies  topped  a  gentle  rise,  and  pouring  over  flowed 
down  into  a  wide  undulating  territory.  Of  the  two 
other  bands  only  one  was  in  sight — a  half  mile  to  the 
right  and  slightly  before.  It  was  hastening  onward. 
But  Gus  shouted  to  the  boys  his  assistants. 

"  W^ell,  dis  is  it.     Dowm  yonder  we  camp." 

"Oh!     Is  this  the  Black  Mesa?"  exclaimed  Phil. 

"  Yes." 

There  was  nothing  black  about  it,  nor  anything  dis- 
tinctively mesa-like.  Phil  was  disappointed — although 
glad  to  be  at  the  day's  end;  for  he  was  hungry  and 
a  bit  tired  of  the  plodding  pace.  However,  so  far  as 
the  mesa  was  concerned,  approached  from  a  different 
direction  it  probably  would  appear  in  a  different  shape 
and  light.  The  sheep  were  baaing  and  jostling,  and 
even  (it  seemed  to  Phil)  staring  about  them  in  wonder 
as  if  half  recognizing  the  region.     That  sheep  had 


98  THE   CIRCLE    K 

been  here  before  was  plain,  for  sheep  skulls  and  other 
bones  were  scattered  along  the  route.  Letting  the 
band  drift,  at  the  bottom  of  the  slope,  Gus  changed  his 
course  slightly  and  rode  to  a  small  bunch  of  quaking 
aspens,  where  now  were  to  be  seen  a  bundle  of  canvas 
and  some  boxes  and  other  stuff. 

This  was  the  tent  and  the  supplies,  dumped  off  by 
Old  Jess  the  camp-tender,  who  must  have  visited  the 
spot  in  advance  with  his  burros  and  with  Mr. 
Simms. 

"  Whoopee !  "  cheered  Chet,  coming  at  a  gallop,  and 
beating  the  astonished  Medicine  Eye  with  his  hat, 
cow-boy  fashion. 

Phil  cheered  back,  also  galloping.  But  Gus  merely 
jogged,  stoically  dismounted,  and  said  nothing. 

The  tent  was  pitched  upon  the  slope  of  a  little  hill, 
at  the  edge  of  the  aspens.  Below,  twenty  yards, 
through  a  swale  or  draw  lined  with  fresh  grasses  and 
willows  meandered  a  boggy  little  stream;  above 
stretched  the  sage;  across  and  around  were  sage  and 
flowering  weeds,  and  rolling  country  broken  by  rim- 
rock  here  and  there.  It  was  a  wide,  free,  open  region, 
with  water  and  short  grass  and  upland  and  lowland 
and  patches  of  shade,  adapted  to  sheep. 

Strolling  about,  for  a  minute,  Phil  found  a  curi- 
osity :  a  chunk  of  transparent  rock,  amber,  translucent, 
smooth,  and  oddly  pitted  with  small  shallow  cups. 
The  indications  were  volcanic — but  this  did  not  look 
like  a  volcanic  country  at  all. 

"  See  here,  what  I've  picked  up,"  he  said,  exhibit- 
ing. 


LAMBING   RANGE   WARNINGS         99 

Chet  laughed  long  and  loud.     Gus  simply  smiled. 

"  We  call  it  salt.  That  iss  a  piece  of  rock  salt  left 
here.    Taste  it,  if  you  want  to." 

"  Sheep  have  been  licking  it,"  giggled  Chet. 
"  That's  what  makes  those  holes.  You  going  to  lick 
it,  too?" 

Phil  paused,  and  declined. 

"  That  iss  left  from  last  year,  or  the  year  before," 
explained  Gus. 

"  Phil  thought  it  was  rock,"  giggled  Chet.  "  He 
was  going  to  send  it  home ! " 

**  Well,  I  don't  see  how  it  lasted  through  the  winter, 
and  the  snow  and  rain,  clear  from  a  year  ago,"  de- 
fended Phil. 

"  We  put  it  right  out  on  the  bedding-ground  and 
let  it  stay,"  answered  Gus.  "  It  will  not  melt.  Sheep 
lick  it  away  faster  than  it  melts.  It  iss  ever-lasting 
salt." 

"  It  sure  is  hard,"  commented  Phil;  and  by  a  jerk 
he  parted  with  his  treasure. 

"  We  will  bed  dose  sheep  and  den  get  supper," 
directed  Gus.  "  There  iss  the  bedding-ground,  below, 
where  dose  old  coyote  flags  are." 

''Those  things  on  sticks?"  queried  Phil. 

For  he  saw,  just  below,  a  number  of  short  poles  and 
cedar  branches  set  up,  as  if  marking  out  a  boundary. 
Shreds  of  cloth  were  clinging  to  them. 

"  Yes,"  asured  Gus. 

"  Scarecrows,"  supplemented  Chet. 

"  We  call  dem  coyote-flags,"  explained  Gus,  stol- 
idly.   "  In  the  morning  we  must  fix  dem  better.    Now 


100  THE   CIRCLE    K 

I  t'ink  we  round  dose  sheep  up.  They  will  recognize 
the  place  when  once  they  are  on  it." 

From  where  it  had  been  lying  amidst  odds  and  ends 
of  camp  equipment  Gus  picked  up  a  long  staff  with  a 
curved  handle  like  an  umbrella's.  He  examined  it 
with  an  air  of  affection,  and  now  grasping  it  seemed 
more  satisfied. 

"What's  that— a  shepherd's  crook?"  asked  Phil. 

"  This  iss  my  hook,"  informed  Gus,  without  the 
least  touch  of  romance.  "  I  have  carried  dis  hook 
for  five  year." 

"  He  catches  sheep  by  the  legs  with  it ;  don't  you, 
Gus  ?  "  invited  Chet. 

Gus  nodded. 

"  Sometimes,"  he  said.  "  Come  on,  Kitty.  You 
and  I  will  go  one  way,  and  the  boys  will  go  the  odder, 
and  drive  dose  sheep  where  they  belong." 

Using  his  "  hook  "  as  a  staff  he  trudged  off,  pic- 
turesque, but  business-bent. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MORE  WARNINGS 

It  was  late  afternoon  of  another  day.  The  camp 
had  now  settled  down  to  business.  The  shreds  of 
cloth  on  the  sticks  erected  around  the  bedding-ground 
and  in  the  vicinity  had  been  eked  out  by  some  sacking, 
and  by  a  pair  of  ragged  overalls,  and  by  an  old  coat 
and  an  old  hat.  Thus  stood  up  the  coyote  flags,  re- 
arrayed  to  keep  the  wary  scavengers  at  a  distance 
from  the  central  portion  of  the  range.  Additional 
salt,  in  squared  white  cubes  as  large  as  a  coal-hod,  had 
been  distributed  upon  the  dirt-hard  bedding-ground 
itself.  The  sheep  had  passed  a  peaceful  night;  more 
lambs  had  arrived;  and  now  another  day  of  herding 
upon  the  lambing  range  was  drawing  to  its  close. 

The  sun  was  again  setting,  flooding  the  sage  with 
his  broad,  golden  beams.  The  sheep  had  strayed 
hither  and  thither,  and  in  a  wide  circuit  Phil  and  Chet, 
and  Gus,  and  Kitty  the  dog,  were  toiling  to  turn  them 
and  drive  them  in  for  the  night.  Baaing,  they  re- 
sponded to  voice  and  gesture;  out  from  the  tall  sage, 
and  from  the  aspens  which  clustered  upon  the  hill 
crest,  they  scampered,  protestingly  looking  back  with 
snaky  yellow  eyes  at  their  pursuers,  and  trotting  on 
again,  eating  as  they  went.  It  was  hard  for  Phil  to 
credit  that  sheep  were  not  smart;  their  eyes  were  so 

zox 


102  THE    CIRCLE    K 

uncanny  a'lld  Knowing,  mysterious  as  a  cat's  eyes;  and 
with  such  promptness  they  bolted  from  their  coverts 
at  the  approach  of  the  herders.  On  the  right  of  the 
gathering  host  was  Chet,  scouring  that  flank;  in  the 
middle  was  Gus,  with  busy  Kitty;  on  the  left  was 
Phil.  He  could  hear  Gus'  voice,  urging  and  scolding 
recreant  animals. 

"  Get  in  dere,  you  old  fool !  You  brown-legged 
rascal,  I  set  the  dog  on  you,  if  you  don't  watch  out. 
Go  on,  little  fellow.  I  ain't  got  your  mammy.  Run 
along.  You'll  find  her.  Say,  who  yoii  looking  for? 
I  ain't  got  your  baby,  either.  H  you  have  not  sense 
enough  to  find  your  own  baby,  nobody  else  iss  going 
to  find  it  for  you.  You  brown-legged  scamp!  Bite 
him,  Kitty!  Joost  bite  him  good!  We'll  teach  him 
not  to  try  sneaking  off,  won't  we !  Baa-aa-aa !  Blat, 
if  you  want  to.  You've  been  eating  all  day.  Now 
you  got  to  go  to  bed." 

Amusing  was  Gus'  monologue,  addressed  to  the 
sheep  as  if  they  could  understand.  And  understand 
they  did,  apparently:  for  when  he  leveled  a  remark 
at  the  troublesome  brown-legged  wether,  that  sheep 
jumped  and  did  as  bidden.  So  did  the  others.  And 
with  "  Hi !  "  and  ''  Get  out  of  there !  "  and  "  What's 
the  matter  with  you  ? "  Phil  also  began  to 
talk. 

It  was  hard  work,  this ;  trudging  up  slope  and  down 
slope,  routing  out  the  woolly  people.  When  he  drew 
near,  crashing  through  the  brush  and  through  the  as- 
pens which  were  a  part  of  his  territory  heads  were 
lifted,  yellow  eyes  stared  at  him,  and  with  toss  of  nose 


MORE   WARNINGS  103 

and  flirt  of  short  tail  the  obedient  folk  went  trotting, 
to  join  the  main  column. 

Many  more  lambs  had  arrived,  to-day  and  in  the 
days  and  nights  preceding.  Wobbly,  funny  little 
things  they  were,  innocent  and  defenceless.  Several 
times,  on  this  the  evening  roundup,  Phil  came  upon 
small  babes  curled  amidst  the  brush ;  so  soundly  asleep, 
tired  by  their  day's  footing,  that  he  had  to  touch  them 
with  his  toe  to  rouse  them.  Whereupon  they  jumped 
up  all  startled  and  confused,  and  bolted  in  any  direc- 
tion whatsoever  until  turned  aright. 

"  Search  dose  aspens  out  good,"  shouted  Gus. 
"  Dere'll  be  some  away  back  in,  probably,  trying  to 
hide." 

The  aspens  were  harder  to  ransack  than  the  sage 
brush.  Driving  out  little  squad  after  little  squad,  Phil 
penetrated  deeper,  his  eyes  and  ears  alert.  The  aspens 
dipped  into  a  shallow  basin,  where  was  a  bed  of  longer 
grass,  warm  in  the  sunshine  which  filtered  in  and 
spangled  it  with  light  and  shade.  There  was  a  rustle 
and  a  feeble  blatting,  plaintive  and  piping;  and  before 
his  feet  Phil  saw  lying,  in  its  last  struggles,  a  lamb. 
A  gash  was  in  its  soft  throat,  and  a  fang  hole  on  the 
top  of  its  head ;  and  something  had  torn  its  tail.  Even 
as  he  looked,  it  stiffened,  and  died. 

Stock  still  he  stood,  staring  at  that  sudden  evidence 
of  tragedy.  He  stared  and  listened.  But  everything 
was  peaceful.  The  sunlight  fell  across  the  grass,  the 
recess  was  warm  and  genial,  the  aspens  faintly  rustled, 
while  mellowed  by  the  intervening  trees  came  float- 
ing in  the  voices  qi  the  flock  and  the  cries  of  Gus. 


104  THE    CIRCLE    K 

But  here,  in  broad  daylight,  within  stone's  throw  of 
the  open  and  within  easy  sight  of  the  very  tent,  some- 
thing had  stalked  and  killed  a  lamb.  Coyote !  It  must 
have  been  a  coyote,  already — and  that  boded  ill  for 
the  band.  Phil,  his  first  surprise  and  momentary 
alarm  abated,  ventured  to  move  and  to  examine  more 
closely.  The  long  grass  was  but  slightly  mashed, 
where  the  body  of  the  lamb  was  lying.  Beyond,  was 
another  spot  where  grass  was  flattened,  as  if  the  lamb 
might  have  rolled  there,  too.  Now  stamping  boldly 
about,  Phil  could  discover  nothing  else ;  but  he  was  not 
at  all  certain  that  the  coyote  might  not  be  lying  within 
a  few  yards,  watching  him.  This  w^as  an  uneasy  sen- 
sation to  have. 

So  Phil  returned  to  the  lamb's  body.  What  a  nervy 
thing  that  was,  in  a  coyote:  to  work  by  daylight  and 
while  men  and  a  dog  were  shouting  and  barking,  right 
at  hand.  But  it  had  sneaked  through  the  aspens,  or 
down  through  the  long  grass  of  the  little  basin,  had 
pounced  upon  the  lamb — pounced  twice,  evidently — 
and  had  downed  it,  and  then  had  left  only  because 
Phil  neared. 

"  You  won't  eat  him,  anyway,"  declared  Phil,  ad- 
dressing the  unseen  despoiler. 

He  picked  up  the  little  carcass — warm  it  was,  and 
woolly  and  soft  and  pathetically  lax — and  carrying  it 
over  his  arm  proceeded,  driving  before  him  a  few 
straggler  sheep.  These  appeared  not  to  be  conscious 
of  what  had  occurred  virtually  in  their  midst.  Their 
principal  thought  seemed  to  be  grabbing  mouthfuls  of 
herbage  as  they  trotted. 


MORE    WARNINGS  105 

Converging  with  this  his  last  squad  into  the  open 
where  was  being  trailed  the  main  band,  Phil  saw  that 
Giis  too  was  carrying  a  lamb.  But  the  distance  and 
the  uproar  of  sheep  voices  were  too  great  for  exchange 
of  news;  beyond  Gus,  was  Chet.  Kitty  trotted  right 
and  left,  slyly  quickening  the  laggards. 

The  gather  for  the  night  was  complete.  If  any 
sheep  had  been  missed  they  must  stay  out;  man  and 
dog  had  done  their  best.  In  a  wide  shaggy  column 
the  sheep  went  streaming  on  through  the  sage,  their 
voices,  high  and  low,  united  in  a  tumultuous  chorus, 
the  evening  hymn  of  the  sheep  range.  Above  the 
woolly  backs  floated  a  golden  cloud  of  dust.  Lambs 
scampered,  anxious  mother  ewes  halted  and  looked 
back,  calling;  w^ethers  baaed  more  hoarsely — an  eye 
on  the  herders,  an  eye  on  Kitty.  About  this  sunset 
march,  which  Phil  was  to  see  many  times  repeated, 
and  which  always  somehow  appealed  to  him  as  a  fit- 
ting close  to  a  long,  sunny  day,  was  something  human. 

As  the  foremost  of  the  sheep  flowed  upon  the  bed- 
ding-ground, they  slackened  and  smelling  along, 
stopped  of  their  own  accord,  in  confused,  tentative 
fashion.  The  others  crowded  in,  until  all  were  jos- 
tling and  baaing,  and  milling  there ;  the  bedding  ground 
was  filled.  Some  of  the  sheep  licked  the  salt,  some 
drank  of  the  stream,  but  the  majority  stood  still,  or 
ambled  around ;  and  all  baaed. 

"  What  you  got  there  ?  "  demanded  Gus,  as  Phil 
approached. 

"  Dead  lamb.    Coyote  killed  him.    What  you  got? '' 

"  This  ?    This  iss  a  twin.    Where  was  your  lamb  ?  " 


io6  THE   CIRCLE    K 

"  Found  him  in  a  bunch  of  grass,  among  the  aspens. 
He  was  just  dying.  I  must  have  scared  the  coyote  off. 
It  was  a  coyote,  sure,  wasn't  it?" 

"  Guess  it  wass,"  said  Gus.  Chet  came  over.  "  See 
how  he  got  him?  Made  a  grab  and  missed  him,  all 
except  the  tail.  Sometimes  I  t'ink  a  coyote  grabs  for 
the  tail  on  purpose,  to  t'row  the  lamb.  But  when  he 
got  hold,  he  sunk  his  upper  teeth  in  the  top  of  the  skull, 
and  the  lower  in  the  t'roat — see  dose  marks?  That 
fixed  the  lamb.  It  crushed  his  skull  and  it  opened  the 
jugular  vein.  A  coyote  is  smart.  He  picks  the  fat 
ones,  and  he  always  strikes  the  jugular  vein  in  the 
t'roat." 

"  Remember  when  a  coyote  got  old  Tom  ?  "  asked 
Chet,  of  Phil.  "  In  that  arroyo  by  the  ranch  house 
winter  before  last?  That  was  nerve.  They've  stolen 
chickens  in  broad  daylight,  in  the  ranch-yard,  too." 

"  One  lamb  gone,"  commented  Gus.  He  threw  the 
carcass  far  into  the  brush.  "  What  did  you  bring  him 
in  for?    To  show?  '* 

**  I  thought  I'd  fool  the  coyote  out  of  his  supper," 
answered  Phil. 

"  Aw,  he  wouldn't  have  touched  it  after  you'd 
touched  it,"  proclaimed  Chet.     *' Would  he,  Gus?" 

"  No.  You  could  have  let  it  lie  till  it  began  to  rot. 
Hold  this  little  fellow,  will  you?  Now  I  must  ketch 
his  brother  before  too  dark  and  tie  them  togedder." 

"What  for?" 

"  The  mother  forgot  she  had  two  babies,  I  guess. 
She  won't  let  dis  one  eat.  I  saw  her  driving  him  away. 
She  butted  him  good,  and  the  odder  little  fellow  wass 


MORE    WARNINGS  107 

getting  all  the  milk.  That  iss  often  the  way  with  twins  ; 
the  mother  doesn't  know  she  has  two,  or  else  she  iss 
sort  of  rattled.  Wait,  I'll  show  you  how  we  get  ahead 
of  her." 

He  left  Chet  holding  the  little  lamb,  and  entered 
amidst  the  uneasy  band  upon  the  bedding-ground.  He 
weaved  here  and  there,  looking  carefully,  Kitty  sob- 
erly at  his  heels.  Suddenly  he  stooped,  and  thrust 
along  the  ground  with  his  hook,  catching  something 
and  drawing  it  toward  him.  This  proved  to  be  an- 
other lamb.  He  lifted  it,  and  carrying  it  in  his  arms 
threaded  his  way  out  of  the  herd. 

"  Sure  that's  it,  are  you?  "  queried  Phil. 

Gus  half  smiled — the  nearest  to  a  smile  that  he  had 
yet  effected. 

"  I  know  a  lamb  when  I  see  it,"  he  said.  "  If  I 
don't,  Kitty  does.  I  could  place  every  lamb  in  the 
bunch  with  its  mother,  I  bet  you." 

Which,  considering  that  all  lambs  seemed  to  look 
alike,  struck  Phil  as  remarkable. 

"  Now  we  will  hobble  dese  two  little  fellows  to- 
gedder,  and  when  one  gets  a  drink  the  odder  gets  a 
drink,  and  pretty  soon  the  mother  will  be  used  to  hav- 
ing dem." 

With  a  piece  of  stout  cord  from  his  pocket  Gus  con- 
nected the  left  hind  leg  of  the  one  lamb  with  the  right 
hind  leg  of  the  other,  leaving  slack  between  about  two 
feet  long.  He  placed  them  upon  the  bedding-ground, 
and  he  and  the  two  boys  stood  off  to  observe  for  a 
moment. 

The  lambs  were  having  a  hard  time  of  it.     They 


io8  THE   CIRCLE   K 

upset  each  other,  and  struggled  around  like  hooked 
fishes.  It  seemed  cruel — but  evidently  it  wasn't,  for 
Gus  merely  chuckled,  and  said : 

"Dey'll  get  used  to  it.  The  mother  will  find  them 
to-night,  and  to-morrow  dey  will  travel  together  first- 
rate.  After  a  while  she  won't  let  either  one  suck  alone ; 
she  will  make  it  two  or  none.  And  den  you  will  see 
the  hungry  one  running  around  and  yelling  for  his 
brother  to  come,  so  that  he  can  have  a  meal.  That 
will  be  after  I  take  the  hobbles  off,  in  about  a 
week." 

"  Supposing  you  hadn't  hobbled  them.  Would  one 
have  died  ?  "  asked  Chet. 

"  One  would  have  grown  big  and  fat,  and  the  odder 
would  have  been  a  bum.  That  is  what  we  call  a  lamb 
who  has  no  mother.  A  bum.  If  a  bum  cannot  steal 
enough  to  eat,  den  he  dies.  Well,  now  I  guess  we 
will  get  supper." 

From  the  tent  the  bedding-ground  could  be  over- 
looked, and  along  with  the  supper  preparations  fur- 
nished, to  Phil  and  Chet  at  least,  plenty  of  entertain- 
ment. The  medley  of  voices  was  still  unabated. 
Some  were  keyed  in  base,  some  in  alto,  and  the  lambs 
in  soprano.  Two  or  three  of  the  hoarser  voices  seemed 
to  be  exchanging  distinct  remarks — like  a  few  old  gos- 
sips back  from  a  day  abroad. 

".  Do-on't  like  it,"  declared  one. 

"  Ba-ad  plan,"  agreed  another. 

"Won't  go  again,"  drawled  a  third. 

They  all  seemed  disgruntled. 

*'  Ma-amie !  "  was  calling  a  mother. 


MORE    WARNINGS  109 

"  Where's-my-boy  ?  "  was  inquiring  persistently  an- 
other. 

"Maud!"  called  a  third. 

'*  Ma-ma !  "  wept  a  baby. 

Every  now  and  then  from  the  edge  of  the  bedding 
ground,  out  into  the  sage  scampered  a  dozen  or  so  of 
little  lambs  in  single  file,  as  if  playing  at  follow-my- 
leader,  weaved  at  full  speed  through  the  brush,  and 
circling  came  back  again.  It  was  a  pretty  sight,  in  the 
waning  twilight. 

"  Got  to  have  their  play  before  dey  go  to  bed.  Dey 
are  never  too  tired  for  that,"  spoke  Gus,  pausing  to 
watch,  too.  "  Look  at  dem.  Joost  like  any  odder 
youngsters,  aren't  dey.  I  always  have  to  laugh  when 
I  see  dem  acting  up  so."    But  he  didn't. 

"  How  do  we  know  all  the  sheep  are  here  ?  "  queried 
Phil.    "  Do  we  count  them,  ever  ?  " 

"  The  only  way  to  tell  iss  by  the  markers,"  informed 
Gus.  "  Dose  black  sheep,  dose  are  the  markers.  Dat 
iss  why  we  keep  black  sheep.  In  a  band  of  sheep  you 
always  see  some  black  ones.  When  all  the  black  ones 
are  on  hand,  den  it  iss  not  likely  dat  many  sheep  are 
missing,  or  a  black  one  would  be  gone.  We  got 
eleven  markers  in  dis  band.  Dey  are  all  here,  too. 
I  counted  dem." 

No  coyote  barked  this  night,  but  there  was  plenty  to 
listen  to.  The  uproar  on  the  bedding-ground  was  main- 
tained until  long  after  dark.  Gradually,  however,  the 
voices  died,  by  ones  and  twos  and  threes,  until^  about 
nine  o'clock,  when  the  tent  went  to  bed,  there  were 
just  a  few,  occasional  little  murmurings. 


no  THE    CIRCLE    K 

Once  in  the  night  Phil  was  aroused  by  Gus,  who 
had  raised  to  one  elbow,  as  if  listening.  The  chill 
darkness  enveloped  everything,  but  from  behind  the 
stove  Kitty  growled,  and  from  the  bedding-ground  was 
wafted  an  uneasy,  querulous  interchange  of  lamb  and 
sheep  voices,  sleepy,  confused,  uncertain.  These  died 
down  again,  Kitty  snuggled  and  sighed,  and  Gus  re- 
laxed, to  sleep.  His  snores  resumed.  Chet  also  was 
snoring — or  very  near  to  it,  with  his  heavy,  regular 
breathing.  For  a  time — not  long,  of  course,  but  it 
seemed  long — Phil  lay  on  his  back,  listening  and  think- 
ing. He  pictured  the  wide,  lonesome  open  now  veiled 
by  the  chill  night,  with  the  sheep  and  the  little  lambs 
grouped  here  and  there  defenseless  upon  their  bed- 
ding-grounds while  around  about,  keen  for  their 
blood,  prowled  slinking  coyote  and  bob-cat,  and  sniffed 
wistfully  from  the  timber  lion  and  bear  and  wolf. 

Everything  considered  sheep  fair  prey — yes,  even 
the  men  who  had  posted  that  dead-line  notice.  And 
against  all  their  enemies  the  sheep  had  only  their 
herders. 

Then  he  dropped  off  to  sleep.  Scarcely,  it  seemed 
to  him,  had  he  closed  his  eyes  and  started  a  dream, 
than  he  was  awakened  by  Gus  pulling  on  his  shoes. 
However,  the  darkness  had  grayed,  and  from  the  bed- 
ding-ground was  wafted  a  blatting  and  baaing  which 
momentarily  increased.  This  was  morning,  then.  So 
he  sat  up.  Chet  likewise  stirred,  and  yawned.  Gus 
began  poking  sage-brush  splinters  into  the  stove,  and 
from  behind  it  the  black,  bushy  shape  of  Kitty 
promptly  backed  out,  in  alarm. 


MORE    WARNINGS  in 

Boots  on,  Phil  unbuttoned  the  flaps  and  stepped 
through.  The  east  was  Hght;  overhead  a  few  stars 
faintly  twinkled,  while  in  the  path  of  the  nearing  sun 
great  Venus  hung  like  a  distant  electric  arc  light.  The 
sage  was  becoming  distinct.  As  Phil  seized  the  axe 
and  chopped  at  a  fragment  of  cedar  lying  by,  Kitty 
also  slipped  out  from  the  tent,  and  yawning  surveyed 
the  landscape  as  if  taking  inventory. 

A  little  morning  breeze  was  blowing ;  it  rustled  some- 
thing which  sounded  like  a  dried  leaf;  but  looking, 
Phil  saw  a  paper  fastened  to  the  tent  flap.  He  went 
and  inspected  it  curiously.  Then  he  unpinned  it  and 
read  it  again.  'Twas  a  scrawl,  but  plain,  upon  a  torn 
bit  of  paper  bag : 

"  Take  yourselves  and  your  sheep  out  of  here  or  there  11  be  trouble. 
You  aren't  wanted. 

Committee." 

Phil's  heart  thumped.  The  paper  had  so  mysteri- 
ously appeared  and  was  so  blunt  in  its  straight  com- 
mand. It  was  again  as  abrupt  and  as  uncivil  as  a 
leveled  pistol.     He  took  it  in. 

"  See  here  what  I  found  ?  "  he  said,  to  Gus,  hand- 
ing it  over. 

"  What  is  it?  "  demanded  Chet. 

"  Another  dead-line  notice  pinned  on  the  tent  flap." 

"  Aw,  wouldn't  that  kill  you ! "  exclaimed  Chet, 
half  in  chagrin,  half  in  admiration.  "  Somebody 
sneaked  up  in  the  night  and  stuck  that  right  under  our 
noses." 

Gus  had  read  the  lines.  He  calmly  let  the  paper 
(drop,  and  resumed  cooking  breakfast. 


112  THE    CIRCLE    K 

''I  heard  dem,"  he  remarked.  "If  I  didn't  the 
sheep  did.  They  began  to  blat,  and  Kitty  growled, 
and  that  waked  me.  I  Hstened  but  I  couldn't  hear 
anyt'ing  more." 

"  I  heard  you.    You  waked  me,"  informed  Phil. 

"  I  didn't  hear  anything,"  declared  Chet.  "  What 
was  I  doing?  " 

**  I  didn't  know  either  of  you  wass  awake,"  said 
Gus.  "  But  one  of  you  wass  breathing  so  hard  I 
t'ought  it  wass  scaring  the  sheep !  " 

''  That  was  Chet,"  promptly  assured  Phil;  and  Chet 
feebly  giggled. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  that,  an3rway," 
asked  Phil. 

"  What  ? "  Gus  turned  the  potatoes  over  with  a 
knife. 

"  The  notice." 

"  Nothing.  It  iss  up  to  the  boss.  I  guess  we  will 
stay.    But  if  he  wants  to  move  us,  all  right." 

"  That  is  a  bluff !  "  declared  Chet,  angrily.  "  Wait 
till  dad  knows  about  it.  If  they  think  they  can  scare 
this  outfit  they're  shore  mistaken.  We  leave  for  no- 
body. This  is  sheep  range.  I'd  like  to  know  who  put 
up  that  notice,  right  on  the  tent." 

"  Well,  dey  ought  to  know  we  can't  take  the  trail 
till  we  have  lambed,"  commented  Gus,  evenly.  "  And 
there  iss  no  odder  lambing  range  near  here  outside  the 
new  dead-lines." 

"  Just  wait  till  dad  knows  about  it,"  repeated  Chet, 
with  utmost  faith  in  his  father. 

And  Phil  himself  was  rather  of  the  opinion,  know- 


MORE    WARNINGS  113' 

ing  the  veteran  plainsman  and  cattleman  as  he  did, 
having  seen  him  in  action  against  outlaws  and  In- 
dians and  sheepmen  too,  that  he  would  be  a  difficult 
person  to  drive,  by  bluff  or  by  force. 

"  Doggone  dose  sheep !  "  muttered  Gus.  "  Sounds 
like  dey  were  leaving  the  bedding-ground  already- 
Stir  dese  spuds,  one  of  you."  And  out  he  went.  But 
he  returned,  at  once.  "  It  iss  joost  a  few  following 
that  old  brown-legged  rascal.  Dey  are  heading  all 
right,  for  a  wonder.  We  will  graze  dem  across  on  the 
odder  side  of  the  draw,  to-day.  Let  dem  go.  We 
will  eat.  But  the  minute  the  sun  is  up  dey  will  scat- 
ter." 

The  three  ate  a  hasty  breakfast,  Gus  frequently, 
pausing,  listening,  and  rising  to  peek  through  the  tent- 
flaps  and  observe. 

"  Dey  do  not  want  to  give  a  man  a  chance  to  eat, 
even,"  he  complained.  That  brown-legged  one  is  to 
blame.  Dere  dey  go !  "  And  out  he,  too,  went,  in 
haste. 

The  baas  had  increased  to  the  customary  uproar. 
xA.s  the  boys  followed  Gus,  they  were  met  by  the  first 
rays  of  the  day's  sun,  shooting  over  the  rosy  peaks 
forming  the  far  distant  horizon  in  the  east.  As  if 
this  had  been  a  signal,  the  sheep  began  to  spread 
greedily  through  the  brush;  some  at  a  decisive  walk 
as  if  they  were  bound  to  get  as  far  as  possible,  some 
sidling  about,  nibbling,  and  others  trotting,  and  baaing 
and  trotting  again.  Little  lambs  frolicked,  or  pressed 
close  to  their  mothers,  for  breakfast.  The  bunch 
led  by  the  brown-legged  trouble-maker  already  had 


114  THE   CIRCLE    K 

crossed  tHe  draw  and  was  grazing  on  the  other  side; 
and  hither,  in  steady  march,  the  majority  of  the  sheep 
were  heading. 

The  air  was  crisp  and  fresh ;  the  sage  damp  and  the 
grass  of  the  bottoms  was  frosty. 

"  Head  dem  all  across  the  draw,  boys,"  called  back 
Gus,  hurrying.  "Turn  'em,  Kitty!  Over  there." 
And  with  shout  and  gesture  he  proceeded. 

In  a  circuit,  trudging  through  the  fragrant  brush 
which  lifted  up  its  aroma-like  incense  to  greet  the  sun, 
the  boys  also  turned  back  errant  squads,  starting  all 
the  sheep  in  the  right  direction,  for  the  opposite  side 
of  the  draw.  But  it  was  an  hour,  and  the  sun  was 
waxing  uncomfortably  hot,  ere  the  band  had  been 
located  satisfactorily,  and  seemed  to  be  contentedly 
feeding.  The  new  mothers  (for  several  lambs  had 
arrived,  during  the  night)  must  be  driven  slowly  and 
cautiously. 

Having  arrived  again  at  the  tent,  with  a  keen  look 
to  see  that  matters  among  his  charges  were  progress- 
ing favorably,  Gus,  assisted  by  Phil  and  Chet,  washed 
the  few  dishes.  A  shadow  fell  across  the  front  of  the 
tent;  even  Kitty  glanced  quickly  up.  A  wide-winged 
bird,  black  save  for  a  white  rim  to  its  pinions  flashing 
as  they  turned  to  the  sunlight,  was  swinging  over, 
in  great,  graceful  and  powerful  circles. 

Gus  sprang  as  if  for  one  of  the  rifles. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said.  "  And  you  keep  away  or  I'll 
put  a  hole  in  you." 

"Eagle!  "spoke  Phil. 

*'  Naw,  that's  a  hawk,"  corrected  Chet. 


MORE    WARNINGS  115 

"That?  That  iss  a  buzzard — turkey  buzzard  we 
call  dem.  They  always  come  to  the  lambing  range, 
to  eat  the  dead  lambs  and  the  down  ones  too.  They 
get  on  a  sick  lamb  and  sheep  and  pick  out  his  eyes. 
You  will  see  buzzards  everywhere  in  lambing  time." 

"  He's  a  big  bird,  all  right,"  remarked  Phil,  gazing 
after,  as  the  black  king  swung  on  motionless  wing 
across  the  brush. 

"  Fedders,  mostly,''  observed  Gus.  "  Fedders  and 
smell.  I  shoot  dem  when  I  get  the  chance."  And 
suddenly  he  added :  "  Look  at  that  old  fool  on  the 
bedding-ground,  will  you  ?  She  has  lost  her  lamb  and 
t'inks  she  left  it  there.  Get  after  her,  Kitty!  Take 
her  over." 


CHAPTER  IX 


KITTY  THE  DOG 


Kitty,  who  had  been  watching,  with  ears  pricked, 
as  if  expecting  something  to  happen,  at  the  wave  of 
her  master's  arm  was  away  Hke  a  flash — or  rather,  like 
some  boy  after  mischief.  Straight  for  the  baaing, 
sillily  standing  ewe  she  loped.  The  ewe  lifted  her 
head  in  alarm,  viewing  Kitty's  approach,  and  baaed 
protestingly.  Upon  the  bedding-ground  dashed  Kitty, 
around  wheeled  the  ewe,  and  galloped  off,  still  baaing. 
Kitty  in  pursuit.  She  veered  the  wrong  way,  of 
course,  but  Kitty  cut  her  off,  headed  her  aright,  to- 
ward the  flock  across  the  draw,  and  quickening  her  by 
sundry  little  nips  and  growls,  sent  her  at  full  speed 
where  she  belonged.  Gus  whistled  shrilly ;  Kitty  gave 
a  final  nip,  as  if  to  say:  "  There!  You  stay,"  halted, 
looked  back  inquiringly,  looked  after  the  baaing,  trot- 
ting ewe,  and  at  a  rather  important  trot  re- 
turned. 

"If  you  see  a  ewe  on  the  bedding-ground,  drive  her 
off,"  instructed  Gus,  to  the  boys.  *'  They  come  back, 
looking  for  their  lambs,  when  like  as  not  their  lambs 
were  within  ten  feet  of  dem.  If  you  let  dem  alone  they 
will  stay  right  there  on  the  bedding-ground  all  day, 
without  anyt'ing  to  eat.    If  you  left  dem  long  enough, 


KITTY   THE    DOG  I17 

they  would  starve  to  death,  in  the  one  spot.  They  are 
fools.    So  drive  dem  off." 

"  Good  dog,"  said  Phil,  patting  Kitty,  who  with 
lolling  tongue  was  with  them. 

"  She'd  make  a  fine  cattle  dog,"  declared  Chet. 

"  While  you  are  here  with  me,  boys,  I  will  have  to 
ask  you  not  to  pet  Kitty.  I  had  radder  you  would  kick 
her  away  when  she  comes  near  you." 

'*Why?"  Phil  was  aghast.  Chet  stared  round- 
eyed.  It  occurred  to  them  both  that  Gus  was  tremen- 
dously jealous,  to  act  that  way. 

"Why?  Because  I  don't  want  any  sheep  dog  I 
have  to  t'ink  that  she  has  any  friend  in  the  world  ex- 
cept me.  Kitty  has  got  to  mindt,  and  she  and  I  are 
alone  togedder  months  at  a  time.  If  when  I  lick  her  or 
correct  her  when  she  iss  bad,  she  t'inks  she  can  go  to 
somebody  else  and  get  satisfaction,  den  she  is  spoiled 
for  me.  I  lick  her,  you  pet  her,  pretty  soon  she  get  so 
that  she  sneaks  off.  No ;  don't  let  her  be  friends  with 
you.    Just  leave  her  alone,  please." 

That  sounded  like  a  strange  doctrine,  yet  it  had 
sense  in  it.  Evidently  "  Love  me,  love  my  dog  "  did 
not  apply  among  sheep-herders.  But  it  was  very  hard 
to  resist  Kitty,  she  was  so  graceful  and  so  affectionate, 
so  silky  and  bright-eyed. 

"All  right,"  said  Chet.  "But  I  never  did  hear 
about  that  before.  We've  never  been  with  woollies, 
though;  have  we,  Phil!  " 

"  There  iss  a  lot  of  difference  between  handling  sheep 
and  cattle,"  remarked  Gus,  quietly.  "  Both  are  busi- 
nesses you  have  to  learn." 


ii8  THE    CIRCLE    K 

*'  We  ought  to  have  two  dogs,  then,"  said  Phil. 
"  One  for  you,  and  one  for  us." 

"  Not  in  camp,"  answered  Gus.  "  We  herders  have 
a  saying:  *  Friend  to  my  dog,  enemy  to  me.'  And 
we  have  anodder  saying :  *  One  dog,  good  dog ;  two 
dogs,  half  a  dog;  free  dogs,  no  dog  at  all.'  You  try 
working  with  two  dogs,  and  pretty  soon  instead  of  at- 
tending to  their  own  business  they  attend  to  each  od- 
der's  business,  and  get  to  racing  and  running  sheep, 
to  out-do  each  odder,  and  dey  might  as  well  both  of 
dem  be  shot."  He  stood,  and  stretched,  and  picked 
up  his  hook.  "  Well,"  he  remarked,  "if  you  boys  will 
keep  the  sheep  from  straying  over  the  hill,  yonder, 
Kitty  and  I  will  attend  to  dis  side.  We  will  graze 
the  band  along  that  slope,  to-day — maybe  to- 
morrow." 

**  Luis  has  a  good  dog,  too,  hasn't  he  ?  "  asked  Chet, 
as  they  started  out. 

"Well,  I  tell  you,"  replied  Gus,  soberly.  "If  I 
had  that  dog  the  first  t'ing  I  would  do  with  her  would 
be  to  knock  her  on  the  head." 

"  Shall  we  take  our  rifles  ?  "  asked  Phil,  as  with 
Chet  he  started  away. 

Chet  grunted. 

"  Naw,  they'd  only  be  in  the  way.  There  wouldn't 
be  anything  to  shoot.  But  we  shore  ought  to  have 
hawsses.  It's  hard  work  hiking  through  the  brush, 
chasing  woollies." 

Phil  could  not  but  agree,  for  he  also  was  enough  of 
a  cowboy  when  out  this  way  to  prefer  riding  to  walk- 
ing.    For  as  everybody  knows,  who  knows  anything 


KITTY    THE    DOG  119 

about  the  cattle  range,  a  cowman  will  walk  any  time 
one  mile  to  catch  a  horse  for  riding  half  a  mile. 

However,  nothing  had  been  said  about  bringing  in 
the  horses,  which  were  hobbled  and  turned  out  until 
needed.  And  if  this  was  the  custom  at  all  the  camps, 
Phil  must  inwardly  laugh  over  the  thought  of  Haney 
the  Texan  puncher  reduced  to  herding  afoot ! 

Although  attending  to  the  sheep  on  foot,  trudging 
here  and  there  through  the  sage,  watching  that  none 
of  the  animals  broke  over  the  top  of  the  hill,  proved, 
as  Chet  had  asserted,  hard  work,  it  was  not  unpleas- 
ant work.  The  sky  was  intensely  blue,  the  sun  was 
glowing,  the  sage  smelled  pungent  and  wholesome,  in- 
sects buzzed  hither  and  thither,  and  flowers,  red, 
yellow,  blue  and  white,  uplifted  amidst  the  taller  brush. 
Earth  and  air  were  warm,  clean,  fragrant  and  friendly. 
A  black  buzzard  sailed  high  in  the  ether;  and  as  Phil 
gazed  abroad  a  hawk  went  flapping  across  the  draw, 
a  breakfast  for  its  nestlings  dangling  from  its  claws. 
The  mellow  baaings  of  the  flock  rose  in  a  steady  song, 
as  sprinkling  the  gray-green  sage  with  spots  of  whit- 
ish-drab ewe  and  wether  grazed,  cropping  busily, 
mothers  stared  and  called,  little  lambs  came  for  their 
drinks,  or  gamboled  and  explored. 

Both  sides  of  the  draw  were  sagy;  but  the  farther 
side  extended  up  into  aspens — the  area  where  the  lamb 
had  been  killed  by  the  coyote — and  the  hither  side, 
where  the  boys  were  herding,  out-cropped  into  gravel 
and  shelf-rock.  The  sheep  were  to  be  kept  below  this 
roughness;  and  consequently  they  showed  a  decided 
tendency  to  seek  it.    The  brown-legged  wether  and  the 


120  THE    CIRCLE    K 

old  black-face  ewe  were  much  in  evidence,  leading  off 
for  forbidden  ground  whenever  they  had  the  slightest 
opportunity.  That  was  queer ;  because  the  grazing  was 
much  better  below  the  top,  and  the  other  side  of  the 
ridge  did  not  offer  anything  especially  attractive.  But 
nevertheless,  the  sheep  kept  the  boys  fairly  active 
turning  them  back  into  the  draw  again. 

Chet,  who  was  sitting  down,  during  an  interval  of 
obedience,  called  to  Phil,  and  pointed. 

"  There  comes  dad,"  he  announced. 

A  speck  in  the  wide  expanse  of  rolling  brush,  some- 
body w^as  loping  and  trotting  onward,  up  tlie  boys' 
side  of  the  draw.  Chet's  sharp  eyes  had  been  true, 
for  it  was  Mr.  Simms  upon  Monte.  The  two  boys 
stood  that  he  might  see  them.  Chet  waved,  welcom- 
ing. 

The  boss  of  the  Circle  K  halted  by  them,  and  Monte 
fell  to  nibbling  the  grass  which  was  thick  amidst  the 
sage.  The  boys  might  note  that  Mr.  Simms  wore, 
what  was  unusual  for  him,  a  six-shooter  loosely  hang- 
ing from  a  cartridge  belt,  at  his  right  thigh. 

"Well,  how  goes  it?"  he  asked,  smiling  quizzi- 
cally as  he  surveyed  the  figures  hot,  afoot,  in 
overalls. 

"All  right.  A  coyote  got  a  lamb  last  evening, 
though,"  answered  Phil. 

"  And  we  found  a  notice  pinned  right  on  the  tent 
flaps  this  morning,  telling  us  to  get  out,"  exclaimed 
Chet.  "  Somebody  sneaked  up  in  the  night  and  stuck 
it  there.    We  don't  have  to  get  out,  do  we,  dad  ?  " 

Mr.  Simms  smiled  again,  but  grimly,  and  his  eyes 


KITTY   THE    DOG  121 

were  steel  as  when  they  peered  along  a  rifle  barrel  for 
the  rustlers  who  had  wounded  him. 

"  Not  to-day/'  he  said.  "  Those  notices  are  cheap, 
I  reckon.  Haney  and  Hombre  were  favored,  and 
also  Ford  and  Luis.  They  missed  Jess  and  me,  in  the 
cabin.     We  feel  right  insulted  at  being  left  out." 

"What  are  you  wearing  your  six-shooter  for?" 
inquired  Chet,  directly. 

His  father  glanced  at  it  inquiringly,  and  gave  it  a 
little  hitch. 

"  I  have  got  it  on,  haven't  I !  "  he  said,  as  if  in  sur- 
prise. "  Must  have  been  fastened  to  my  pants. 
But  I'll  take  it  along,  in  case  I  meet  anybody  who 
might  be  interested  in  such  things.  Old  Colonel  Colt 
is  coming  to  be  too  much  of  a  stranger  out  in  this 
country,  and  a  sight  of  him  will  do  some  people  good. 
If  I  could  put  a  gun  on  every  sheep  we  wouldn't  be 
bothered  by  lead-pencil  notes." 

Evidently  the  veteran  Westerner  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  stay  on  the  range.  He  was  not  a  man  to  say 
much,  and  his  "  do  "  was  bigger  than  his  "  tell :  "  and 
now  he  had  said  as  much  as  he  was  going  to,  the  boys 
understood.     So  Chet  wisely  changed  the  subject. 

"  Can't  we  ride  our  hawsses  to  herd  with  ?  "  he 
pleaded.     "  This  walking  makes  our  feet  sore." 

"  No."  The  answer  was  prompt.  "  I  don't  want 
horses  used  on  the  lambing  range.  You'll  be  running 
over  sheep  and  scaring  them,  and  doing  all  kinds  of 
damage.  While  you're  herding  for  me  you  walk, 
until  we  move  camp.    Where's  Gus  ?  " 

At  that  moment  Gus  arose,  and  stood  into  sight, 


122  THE    CIRCLE    K 

from  where  he  had  been  sitting,  invisible,  across  the 
draw. 

"I'll  see  him,  and  then  I'll  ride  on  to  town,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Simms.  He  pulled  up  Monte's  greedy 
nose.  "  Don't  you  worry,  boys,"  he  bade.  **  Those 
notices  are  easy  written,  as  I  know  myself.  We  won't 
interfere  with  anyone's  rights,  but  we  will  hold  our 
own." 

He  cantered  away,  carefully  circuiting  wide  of  the 
sheep,  so  as  not  to  ride  among  them  and  scatter  them. 

"  We're  not  afraid,"  called  Chet,  after  him.  Then 
he  chuckled  his  familiar  chuckle.  "  Golly,  but  I'd  like 
to  have  seen  Haney  when  he  read  that  notice  on  his 
tent." 

"  He  probably  said  *  pity  the  pore  cowboy,'  and  that 
he  was  *  scaired  ' — when  he  wasn't  scared  at  all," 
proffered  Phil.  **  There  goes  that  brown-legged  fel- 
low again !  Hi !  "  and  away  he  must  run,  stumbling 
through  the  high  brush,  to  head  off  the  truant  and  the 
silly  followers. 

The  morning  passed.  As  the  sun  stationed  himself 
higher,  the  sheep  grew  less  persistent  in  their  wrong- 
doing, and  there  were  long  spells  while  the  boys  might 
lie  amidst  the  warm  sage,  whence  they  could  overlook 
their  flock,  and  idle  and  bask  and  talk. 

"  There  goes  Gus  to  the  tent,"  spoke  Chet.  "  It 
must  be  noon.    Come  on,  I'm  hungry." 

Gus  looked  at  them,  and  waved  his  arm,  as  if  in  sig- 
nal; so  they  went.  The  band  of  sheep  all  were  practi- 
cally motionless,  standing  drowsily  dozing,  or  down 
upon   their   stomachs,   sleepily   chewing   their   cuds. 


KITTY   THE    DOG  123 

Threading  careful  way  through  one  end,  avoiding  the 
lambs  and  the  mother  ewes,  and  creating  as  little  com- 
motion as  possible,  the  boys  made  for  the  tent,  from 
whose  pipe  the  smoke  already  was  curling. 

Kitty,  gently  wagging  her  bushy  tail,  came  forward 
in  friendly  fashion  to  nose  and  snuggle,  inviting  some 
love  pats ;  but  Phil  could  only  snarl,  crossly :  "  Get 
out !  "  which  hurt  his  feelings  more,  he  was  sure,  than 
it  hurt  hers.  She  drew  back  in  astonished  manner, 
and  with  tail  and  head  down,  disappointed  sought  her 
master. 

"  Poor  little  girlie,  was  he  cross  to  you?  "  crooned 
Gus,  approvingly,  and  with  much  extravagance  petted 
her,  even  to  hugging  her  head.  "  You  mustn't  go 
fooling  around  folks,  den.  Dey  don't  like  dogs. 
Stay  by  me.     I'll  be  good  to  you." 

Following  this  Kitty  never  once  approached  Phil, 
and  after  a  single  experiment  with  Chet,  and  a  like 
rebuff,  she  gave  up  him  also.  Thenceforth  there  was 
nobody  in  that  camp  for  her  b^t  Gus  her  master. 
Which  satisfied  Gus  mightily,  but  rriade  the  boys  feel 
downright  mean. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I'd  tie  her  up,  anyway," 
observed  Gus,  after  dinner.  "  But  if  you'd  like  to  see 
a  good  dog  work  with  sheep,  now  iss  the  time,  before 
more  lambs  come.  Let's  go  out  a  little.  Come  along, 
girl."  "V 

"  She  and  I  can  handle  t'ree  thousand  sheep  any 
time  and  any  place,"  he  declared,  flatly.  "  Can't  we, 
Kitty.  We  can  handle  all  the  sheep  they  give  us  to 
handle.     If  I  told  her :  *  Kitty,  I  want  dose  sheep 


124  THE   CIRCLE    K 

herded  from  IHe  rim  rock  yonder,  to  dose  cedars; 
now  don't  let  dem  get  outside/  and  pointed,  to  show 
her,  why,  she  would  keep  them  in  limits.  She  under- 
stands as  well  as  you."  He  spoke  to  her.  "  Girl,  see 
dose  sheep  sneaking  up  the  hill.  Go  'round,  Kitty. 
Go  'round."  At  his  words  Kitty  had  looked  up, 
bright-eyed:  her  ears  pricked,  as  she  surveyed  the 
band,  and  when  he  had  directed,  and  his  arm  had 
swung  in  gesture,  away  she  went.  They  could  follow 
her  as  like  a  black  ball  she  leaped  over  the  sage.  The 
sheep,  now  ready  to  graze  again,  somehow  all  knew 
of  her  approach,  and  watched  her  apprehensively. 
Making  a  circle  she  swept  around;  the  sheep  (led  by 
the  brown-legged  wether)  who  were  edging  up  the 
side  of  the  draw,  with  minds  upon  the  crest  and  the 
beyond,  suddenly  stopped  short,  stared  behind,  and 
baaed  affrightedly. 

"  They  know  they  are  doing  wrong — and  dey  know 
what  the  dog  iss  for,"  observed  Gus.     "See  there?" 

Even  before  Kitty  had  reached  them  they  had 
turned,  and  were  scampering  back.  But  they  had  de- 
layed a  little  too  long.  Athwart  their  flanks  raced 
Kitty,  enjoying  herself  mightily,  sending  them  down 
hill  at  full  speed  as  if  the  very  Old  Nick  was  after 
them.  Singling  out  the  rearmost  she  bestowed  an 
admonitory  nip,  as  earnest  not  to  stray  again.  Then 
she  stopped,  and  gazed  inquiringly  across  for  further 
orders. 

Gus  slapped  his  hand  upon  his  thigh;  and  at  a  lope 
she  returned.  Her  tongue  was  hanging,  she  was  pant- 
ing, but  she  was  eager  for  more. 


KITTY    THE    DOG  125 

"  It  iss  not  a  good  plan  to  send  her  in  much,  dis 
time  of  year.  She  excites  the  ewes.  Sheep  are  afraid 
of  a  dog;  and  when  a  ewe  leaves  her  baby  she  some- 
times won't  go  back  to  it,"  said  Gus.  "  But  I  will 
let  her  have  one  more  go."  And  he  spoke  to  her. 
"  See  here,  Kitty,"  and  he  pointed.  She  looked. 
"  You  see  that  black-face  little  lamb,  with  the  old 
black-face  mother  ?  Right  dere  in  front  of  us.  I  want 
the  lamb.  You  catch  the  lamb,  but  leave  the  mother 
alone.    Understand?    Go  on,  girl;  go  on." 

Kitty  hesitated  just  one  moment.  Then  into  the 
herd  she  dashed.  And  sure  enough,  she  was  after  the 
black-face  lamb.  In  vain  the  mother  stamped,  and 
baaed ;  in  vain  the  herd  opened  and  closed  and  jostled ; 
in  vain  the  little  lamb  scuttled  here  and  there,  frantic ; 
Kitty  was  not  to  be  denied ;  and  finally,  with  a  pounce, 
like  a  football  player  blocking  off  she  had  shouldered 
the  lamb  over  and  over  and  out  of  the  cloud  of  dust 
she  appeared  holding  it  securely  but  harmlessly  by  a 
hind  leg.  Almost  paralyzed  with  fright  it  remained 
quiet.  Kitty  waited  and  looked  back  at  her  master  for 
further  instructions. 

"  All  right,  Kitty,"  he  called,  and  slapped  his  thigh; 
and  rather  reluctantly  she  let  go  of  the  lamb,  and  came 
in. 

Gus  patted  her. 

"  That  will  do,  girl,"  he  said.  "  Now  you  had 
better  quit,  or  I'll  have  to  tie  you  up." 

"  She's  shore  smart,"  admitted  Chet.  "  Knows 
everything  you  say,  about." 

"  I'd  like  to  own  her  mighty  well,"  spoke  Phil,  itch- 


126  THE    CIRCLE    K 

ing  to  pat  her.     "  What  would  you  take  for  her, 
Gus?" 

"  Five  hundred  dollars  wouldn't  buy  her — or  five 
thousand,  either.  I  can  do  anyt'ing  with  her  that  I 
could  do  if  I  had  anodder  herder,  and  she  iss  better 
than  a  man,  too.  She  can  round  up  sheep  in  five  min- 
utes that  a  man  could  not  round  up  in  an  hour,  and 
they  are  afraid  of  her,  too.  She  nips  them  but  she 
never  draws  blood.  She  iss  a  heap  of  company,  Kitty 
is.  You  won't  find  many  herders  who  would  sell  a 
good  dog  like  she  iss.  She  has  worked  for  me  until 
her  feet  were  all  cut  and  running  blood,  but  she  never 
quit;  and  a  cross  word  iss  the  only  t'ing  she  needs  to 
keep  her  right.  I  couldn't  get  along  without  Kitty — 
could  I,  girl?" 


CHAPTER  X 

COYOTES^  SHEEP  AND  OUTLAWS 

The  afternoon  passed  without  event.  The  sheep 
grazed,  mothers  maa-ed  for  their  youngsters,  young- 
sters answered  or  not,  as  they  chose,  the  sky  stayed 
blue  and  calm,  the  sage  lay  gray-green  and  endless, 
shimmering  in  the  sun's  generous  rays,  the  near  mesas 
cut  clear  and  unshadowed,  as  if  enchanted,  the  more 
distant  mesas  rose  hazy  and  mysterious,  and  farther, 
against  the  horizon  in  the  east  uplifted  a  mountain 
range,  specked  with  snow  amidst  its  pale  blue  mist. 

"  That's  where  we  go,"  informed  Chet.  "  Dad's 
summer  range  is  up  there,  thirteen  thousand  feet,  on 
Ptarmigan  Flats." 

"When?"  asked  Phil. 

"  After  lambing.    In  about  four  weeks." 

So  this  misty  range  was  something  to  caress  with 
the  eye  and  to  figure  upon.  The  prospect  was  not  un- 
pleasing.  From  the  lambing  range,  then  (itself  nine 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea-  level),  there  would  be  the 
trail  across  country  and  up  into  the  mountains  an- 
other four  thousand  feet,  to  new  grounds. 

The  sun  sank  lower,  signifying  the  close  of  a  day 
of  perfect  peace  on  the  sheep  range.  It  was  time  to 
round  up  the  grazers  and  the  baa-ers  and  the  rompers 
and  the  sleepers  alike,  and  put  them  to  bed.    Gus  could 

127 


128  THE    CIRCLE    K 

be  seen  stalking  forth  from  the  spot  w  here  he  had  been 
sitting,  Kitty  at  his  heels  alert  for  what  to  her  was 
sport.  Opposite,  Phil  and  Chet  started  in.  A  sudden 
animation  pervaded  the  sheep,  below.  Although  they 
had  had  all  day  in  which  to  eat,  now  when  there  were 
signs  that  they  must  quit  a  sudden  hunger  developed 
among  them,  and  they  began  to  grab  right  and  left, 
to  store  up  for  the  night.  Foolish  they  were,  but  they 
knew  what  was  coming  when  the  herders  closed  in  upon 
them. 

Along  the  edges  trudged  the  boys,  driving  the 
stragglers  out  from  their  nooks  into  which  they  had 
cunningly  penetrated.  High  and  protesting  swelled 
the  sheep  voices  as  the  shaggy  people  went  scampering 
and  grabbing  down  the  slope  to  join  the  main  mass. 
The  tent  marking  the  location  of  the  bedding-ground 
gleamed  whitish,  down  the  draw  three-quarters  of  a 
mile. 

Phil's  territory  chanced  to  be  the  upper  part  of  the 
grazing  tract,  and  here  the  rim-rock  out-cropped,  with 
various  ledges  forming  little  nooks  where  the  old 
grass  and  new  grass  were  high  amidst  gravel  and  a 
few  boulders. 

The  sheep,  with  the  perversity  of  their  kind,  trying 
to  get  into  the  most  inaccessible  places,  had  filtered  in 
here,  unnoted  by  herder's  eye;  and  Phil  was  routing 
them  out.  Far  up,  in  among  these  cul-de-sacs  or 
pockets  one  squad  of  a  dozen  ewes  and  wethers,  and 
a  single  lamb,  seemed  to  form  the  outliers.  From 
above  Phil,  pausing  to  take  breath,  for  a  moment  sur- 
veyed them  ere  circling  and  ousting  them. 


COYOTES,  SHEEP  AND  OUTLAWS  129 

The  sun  was  casting  long  the  shadows  of  the  low 
crags  jutting  from  the  ground  here  and  there.  The 
tumult  of  the  herd,  the  voices  of  Gus  and  of  Chet,  and 
the  scream  of  a  Colorado  magpie  drifted  through  the 
transparent,  warm,  golden  air,  balmy  with  eventide. 
The  squad  of  sheep  grazed  vigorously,  with  one  eye 
on  him  and  the  other  on  tid-bits  which  they  thought 
their  companions  might  be  getting. 

All  of  a  sudden  they  scattered  and  sprang  apart  as 
if  a  bombshell  had  burst  in  their  midst.  Frenziedly 
blatting  they  ran  in  all  directions.  A  dirty-brown, 
furry  shape,  the  size  of  a  water-spaniel  but  of  lighter 
build,  had  shot  like  a  streak  into  the  spot  which  they 
were  vacating.  Sliding,  quick  as  light  it  turned — a 
ewe  was  running  blindly — the  yellow  animal  was  upon 
it,  they  slammed  together  broadside,  and  over  they 
went  rolling  and  struggling  in  a  heap,  sending  the 
gravel  flying  and  raising  a  dust. 

*'  Coyote !  "  instantly  had  gasped,  to  himself,  Phil. 
He  had  no  time  to  shout,  at  first;  but  now  with  shout 
and  threat  he  lurched  ahead,  as  fast  as  he  could  go, 
crashing  through  the  brush. 

The  ewe  was  lying  prone,  plaintively  bleating,  mak- 
ing scarce  a  movement,  defenseless  and  craven.  Half 
prone  over  her,  the  coyote  was  burying  his  sharp  muz- 
zle into  her  throat,  snapping  and  working.  Her  cries 
were  becoming  stifled.  But  Phil  rushed  in.  So  en- 
gaged was  the  coyote,  and  so  desperately  bold,  that  he 
noticed  not  until  Phil  was  within  twenty  yards. 

*'  Get  out  of  there !  "  yelled  Phil,  too  angry  to  care 
for  his  own  safety. 


I30  THE    CIRCLE    K 

The  coyote  lifted  his  evil,  pricked-eared  head.  His 
yellow  slant-set  eyes  fairly  flamed;  his  jaws  were  red 
and  dripping  with  blood  and  saliva. 

"  Get  out  of  there !  "  again  yelled  Phil,  throwing 
rocks  as  he  advanced. 

The  coyote  stood.  He  hesitated  a  moment,  snarling, 
with  tail  stiff,  bristled  up,  like  a  dog  reluctant  to 
leave  a  bone.  Then  he  leaped  across  the  body  of  the 
ewe,  and  with  a  backward  snarl  went  trotting  through 
the  rocks,  quickening  into  an  easy  lope  and  disappear- 
ing around  a  corner. 

"  You'd  better.  I  wish  I  had  a  gun,"  shouted  Phil, 
after  him;  and  kept  on  to  examine  the  victim. 

The  ewe  lay,  breathing  fast  but  otherwise  apparently 
lifeless,  except  that  as  Phil  bent  over,  a  feeble  baa  left 
her  half-parted  lips.  She  w^as  so  utterly  craven  that 
almost  a  disgust  for  her  welled  in  Phil's  heart.  She 
was  larger  than  the  coyote,  and  had  yielded  to  him  with 
about  as  much  readiness  as  if  he  had  simply  told  her 
to  fall  over  and  die.  And  all  the  other  sheep  had 
fled,  saving  their  own  scalps,  leaving  her. 

He  bent  over.  He  could  not  help  but  pity  her,  too. 
However,  the  wound  in  the  throat  did  not  seem  deep, 
and  but  little  blood  was  issuing.  She  had  a  gash  or 
two  on  her  shoulder.    And  that  wds  all. 

"  Why,  get  up,"  he  commanded.  "  You  aren't  hurt 
much."  He  prodded  her  with  his  toe ;  she  opened  her 
eyes,  and  stared  wildly;  and  with  a  sudden  effort  was 
on  her  feet,  to  gallop  off  baaing,  after  her  companions. 

Phil  searched  thoroughly;  but  the  coyote  had  van- 
ished.    So  he  followed  the  ewe. 


COYOTES,  SHEEP  AND  OUTLAWS  131 

Collected  from  their  long  sunny  day  in  the  fragrant 
brush,  again  the  band  of  sheep  were  flowing  in  compact 
column  for  their  nightly  bedding-ground.  Multitudi- 
nous rose  their  voices,  the  bass  of  the  wethers,  the  alto 
and  soprano  of  the  ewes,  the  reedy  notes  of  the  lambs. 
Behind  trudged  the  boys  and  Gus  and  Kitty,  lords  of 
the  flock. 

Gus  seemed  to  be  having  trouble  in  driving  a  lamb. 
Singularly  weak  was  this  little  fellow.  He  tried  his 
best;  but  he  was  scrawny  and  tottering,  and  fell  and 
picked  himself  up  only  to  tumble  again.  Finally  Gus 
halted  to  survey  him  and  to  give  him  time.  Kitty 
looked  on  sympathetically. 

"  Here  iss  a  bum,  boys,"  said  Gus.  "  And  he  iss 
about  all  in.  I  have  been  watching  him  a  couple  of 
days." 

"Where's  his  mother?"  demanded  Chet.  "Can't 
we  find  his  mammy?  " 

"  No,  he  iss  an  orphan,  or  the  same  as  one.  I  guess 
his  mammy  wass  frightened  away  from  him.  Young 
mothers  often  are;  they  get  nervous.  He  iss  done 
for." 

Gus  abruptly  stopped,  and  gathering  the  miserably 
shrinking  little  chap  by  the  hind  legs  swung  him  aloft; 
bringing  him  down  with  a  thump  upon  the  ground,  he 
killed  him  instantly,  and  tossed  him  aside.  Kitty  ran 
and  smelled  of  him,  nuzzling  him  wonderingly;  but 
he  did  not  even  so  much  as  quiver. 

"What  did  you  do  that  for?"  demanded  Chet. 
"  That's  four  dollars  gone." 

"  He  wassn  t  worth  four  cents,"  retorted  Gus.    "  He 


132  THE   CIRCLE    K 

would  not  have  lived  till  morning.  He  wass  about 
starved,  didn't  you  see  ?  A  bum  as  young  as  that  can't 
live.  He  iss  too  young  to  eat  grass,  and  every  time  he 
tries  to  get  a  sip  of  milk  the  old  ones  drive  him  off. 
No  ewe  will  let  a  strange  lamb  drink  from  her.  Some- 
times dese  bums  sneak  about  the  herd,  getting  a  suck 
here  and  a  suck  there,  before  the  ewe  has  time  to  fire 
them;  and  if  they  can  hold  out  till  they  are  on  grass, 
den  they  pull  t'rough.  I  tell  you,  dese  bums  get 
mighty  smart  at  t'ieving.  They  will  steal  in  the 
night,  while  the  ewes  are  asleep.  But  dis  one  wass  as 
good  as  dead.  I  might  as  well  put  him  out  of  his 
misery.    No  use  keeping  him." 

They  moved  on,  after  the  sheep. 

"Don't  you  ever  save  bums?"  queried  Phil.  The 
summary  execution,  and  the  thought  of  these  poor 
waifs  mercilessly  butted  from  ewe  after  ewe,  as  they 
tried  to  eke  out  existence,  gave  another  tinge  of 
tragedy  to  the  sheep  range.  Coupled  with  what  he  had 
witnessed  when  the  coyote  charged,  the  picture  did 
not  increase  his  respect  for  sheep. 

"  Sometimes  we  can  jacket  a  bum  with  a  dead  lamb's 
pelt  and  fool  a  ewe  into  adopting  him.  You  will  see," 
answered  Gus. 

There  was  no  time  now  in  which  to  speak  of  the 
coyote;  for  as  the  sheep  were  swarming  upon  the 
bedding  ground,  in  the  twilight,  to  jostle  and  dispute 
and  gossip  and  call  and  complain  ere  settling  for  the 
night,  a  horseman  came  trotting  through  the  sage, 
from  up  the  draw.  It  was  Mr.  Simms  again,  upon 
Monte,  returning,  evidently,  from  town. 


COYOTES,  SHEEP  AND  OUTLAWS  133 

**  Here's  some  mail,  boys,"  he  said,  handing  it  out. 
He  rested  in  the  saddle,  and  Monte  grazed.  **  How 
goes  the  day? " 

"  We  had  to  kill  a  bum,"  answered  Chet. 

"  And  a  coyote  nearly  got  a  ewe  while  I  was  right 
there  looking  on,"  narrated  Phil. 

Mr.  Simms  laughed. 

"  Well,  and  here's  something  else  to  occupy  you.  I 
found  it  at  the  post-office.  Another  one  is  stuck  up 
there." 

He  passed  down  a  folded  hand-bill,  which  Phil 
opened  and  read. 

I500  REWARD  I ! ! 

Escaped  from  State  Penitentiary  the  night  of  April  20th, 
Convict  No.  1 332 ;  known  as  Jack  Foley,  convicted  in  Rio 
Blanco  County  of  manslaughter  and  serving  a  sentence  of 
twenty  years.  Will  be  recognized  by  having  only  one  eye, 
the  right.  Has  a  record  as  cattle  rustler,  kidnapper  and 
desperado.  Five  hundred  dollars  will  be  paid  for  delivery 
of  his  body  to  Warden  of  State  Penitentiary,  or  Sheriff  of 
Blanco  Co.  No  chances  should  be  taken  with  him,  as  he 
is  apt  to  shoot  on  sight. 

(Signed)  R.  L.  Smith, 

Warden. 

The  bill  exhibited  also  a  picture — a  photograph, 
sure  enough,  of  Foley  the  man  with  the  one  eye,  part- 
ner of  Joe  the  lame  man ;  who  together  made  a  twain, 
since  the  summary  death  of  the  third,  the  man  with 
the  frozen  smile,  that  had  given  the  Bar  B  a  "  heap  " 
of  trouble. 

"  Aw^  dad ! "  exclaimed  Chet,  reading  over  Phil's 


134  THE    CIRCLE    K 

shoulder.  "  Is  he  out  ?  Now  he  and  the  lame  man 
will  get  together." 

**  He'll  try  to  kill  the  lame  man,  won't  he  ?  "  queried 
Phil. 

Mr.  Simms  smiled  grimly. 

"  No,  I  reckon  not.  It  was  a  put-up  job  when  the 
lame  man  turned  state's  evidence.  He  did  that  so  as 
to  stay  out  and  get  his  pard  out  too,  when  the  chance 
came.  '  Moh  trouble  on  the  range,'  as  Haney  will 
say." 

"  Won't  trouble  us,  I  guess,"  observed  Gus,  w^ho  also 
had  read  the  bill.  "  Unless  dey  have  got  it  in  for  you 
personally." 

"  They're  cattle  rustlers,  but  they'll  rustle  anything 
with  hide  and  meat  on,"  said  Mr.  Simms.  ''  That  one- 
eye  will  have  a  hard  time  getting  clear,  though.  The 
whole  country '11  be  after  him.  If  he  comes  riding 
through  you'd  better  nab  him.  I  saw  the  Box  fore- 
man, on  my  way  in.  His  sheep  are  over  there,  about 
ten  miles  the  other  side  the  ridge." 

"  Has  he  had  any  notices  like  we  had  ?  " 

"  Not  yet.  Suppose  he  will,  though.  But  they 
can't  bluff  him,"  and  Mr.  Simms  rode  on. 

"  And  they  can't  bluff  us,  either,"  called  Chet,  after 
him. 

"  No ;  and  they  can't  bluff  us,"  assured  his  father, 
back. 

"  Jiminy,  I'm  sorry  that  one-eyed  man  is  out  again," 
remarked  Chet,  feelingly.  "  I'm  glad  Cherry  isn't  here. 
She'd  be  scared  half  to  death." 

"  So  am  I,"  agreed  Phil. 


COYOTES,  SHEEP  AND  OUTLAWS  135 

They  involuntarily  gazed  out  across  the  sage, 
glamorous  in  the  twilight,  searching  as  if  they  ex- 
pected to  glimpse  a  rider  or  a  pair  of  riders  spurring 
for  sanctuary  or  for  evil  deed  afresh.  But  no  moving 
creature  was  sighted,  except  Mr.  Simms  himself 
trotting  on  through  the  dusk,  for  the  central  cabin 
where  he  and  Old  Jess  bunked. 

It  was  time  for  supper,  again.  During  the  prepara- 
tions, while  incessantly  baaed  the  uneasy  creatures 
upon  the  bedding-ground,  Phil  related  more  in  detail 
about  the  coyote. 

"  That's  iss  the  way,  sure,"  commented  Gus.  "  You 
are  learning  sheep.  They  have  no  spunk;  they  have 
not  as  much  spunk  as  a  rabbit.  A  rabbit  w^ill  try  to 
fight,  but  not  a  sheep.  It  is  every  sheep  for  itself.  The 
bucks  will  leave  the  ewes  and  mothers  will  leave  their 
babies,  and  all  run.  And  if  a  coyote  knocks  one 
over,  it  stays  down,  to  be  eaten.  A  sheep — "  and  Gus 
banged  almost  angrily  on  a  can  that  he  was  emptying, 
"  iss  a  coward  and  a  fool.  Yes,  sir.  Every  t'ing  has 
it  in  for  the  sheep.  Any  animal  can  lick  him,  and  he 
does  not  know  poison.  Now,  a  cow  will  pass  by 
poison  brush  or  will  learn  not  to  eat  it.  But  a  sheep 
will  go  right  on  eating  whatever  it  comes  across.  And 
it  will  graze  a  spot  bare,  and  will  starve  dere,  if  it 
likes  the  place,  unless  you  drive  it  off.  If  I  did  not 
change  our  band  from  one  ground  to  another,  they 
would  stick  to  the  same  day  after  day,  and  not  know 
any  difference.  A  ewe  will  starve  on  the  bedding 
ground  waiting  for  her  lamb,  which  she  left  out  in  the 
brush;  and  .when  I  find  her  lamb  for  her  sometimes 


136  THE   CIRCLE    K 

she  will  not  know  it  iss  hers.  In  a  snow  storm  sheep 
will  drift  against  a  low  bank,  and  w^ill  stop  dere  and 
let  themselves  be  covered  up  and  suffocated,  and  will 
not  have  enough  sense  to  climb  out.  Yes,  and  you 
can  dry-drive  sheep  and  fetch  them  close  to  a  water 
hole  and  they  won't  smell  it,  even  dough  their  tongues 
are  hanging  out  and  they  are  near  dead  wath  t'irst. 
You  have  to  bring  the  water  to  them ;  they  never  find 
it.  And  then  if  they  do  not  happen  to  like  the  taste 
of  it,  or  the  smell,  they  will  not  drink,  anyway.  They 
would  rather  die  of  t'irst  right  beside  it.  Bah !  In  a 
snow  they  half  the  time  will  not  try  to  feed;  they  just 
wait,  and  baa.  They  will  not  feed  in  the  rain.  And 
a  cold  rain  gives  them  pneumonia,  anyway.  Yes,  sir ; 
everyt'ing  is  against  the  range  sheep — odder  animals, 
poison  stuff,  weather,  and  demselves.  And  people 
t'ink  that  herding  them  is  easy." 

"  Worse  than  a  kindergarten,"  quoth  Phil, 
sympathetic. 

"  I  guess  so,"  agreed  Gus,  disgustedly.  **  I  do  not 
know  that  word,  but  I  guess  so,  anyw^ay." 

"  Aren't  there  ever  smart  sheep.  Cows  are  smart, 
some  of  them,  all  right,"  said  Chet.  "  And  horses  are 
mighty  smart.'* 

**  Well,  now  and  then  a  sheep  iss  half  smart,"  ad- 
mitted Gus.  **  There  are  always  two  or  t'ree  half- 
smart  sheep  in  a  band.  That  old,  brown-legged 
wether,  he  is  half  smart.  And  that  black-face  ewe  iss 
half  smart.  So  the  rest  do  not  need  to  be  smart.  They 
joost  watch  the  half -smart  ones.  You  notice  that  when 
the  brown-legged   rascal   sneaks   off,   a   lot    follow. 


COYOTES,  SHEEP  AND  OUTLAWS  137 

Same  with  that  black-face.  If  the  brown-legged 
rascal  would  blat  to  run,  they  all  would  run,  and  never 
would  wait  to  see  why." 

"  Like  cows  in  a  stampede,"  proffered  Chet, 
wisely. 

"  Yes,  and  worse.  They  never  wait  to  smell  a 
coyote;  they  joost  run  blind,  because  anodder 
runs." 

"  Perhaps  they  learned  to  act  quick,  because  they 
don't  defend  themselves,"  suggested  Phil. 

Gus  grunted. 

"  And  there  iss  anodder  t'ing,"  he  said.  "  You  let 
a  sheep  wander  off  from  the  band  and  lose  sight  of  it, 
and  that  sheep  has  to  be  brought  back.  He  can't  find 
it  himself,  by  smell,  and  he  cannot  locate  sound.  He 
is  more  apt  than  not  to  head  in  the  opposite  direction 
and  keep  on  traveling.  The  only  t'ing  a  sheep  ever 
learns  is  the  herder.  He  certainly  savvies  the  herder, 
and  can  read  a  motion  of  the  arm  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away.  That  iss  the  only  reason  a  herder  can  herd. 
Lots  of  time  when  I  start  Kitty  off,  or  start  off  my- 
self, the  sheep  turn  and  move  in  the  right  direction 
before  we  get  to  dem." 

"  They  have  some  sense,  then,"  asserted  Phil. 

"  Mighty  little,"  grunted  Gus.  "  Sometimes  I 
wonder  how  any  of  dem  get  t' rough  a  year  alive. 
Listen  to  dem,  now,  will  you — baaing  and  baaing, 
for  nothing,  before  dey  go  to  sleep." 

Then  the  talk  turned  upon  the  coyote. 

"  He  iss  an  old  fiend,  I  guess,"  declared  Gus. 
*'  All  he  will  t'ink  of  now  will  be  more  mutton.    We 


138  THE   CIRCLE    K 

ought  to  get  him,  some  way,  or  he  will  cost  a  heap 
of  money.  He  won't  leave  his  band  until  we  kill 
him." 

"  If  I'd  had  a  gun  to-day  I'd  have  got  him,  all 
right,"  asserted  Phil. 

"  If  you  had  had  a  gun  you  would  not  have  seen 
him,"  retorted  Gus,  calmly.  "  A  coyote  knows  a  gun, 
you  bet.  But  you  might  take  your  guns  along,  to- 
morrow.   He  may  make  a  break,  sometime." 

Supper  finished,  and  dishes  washed,  Gus  left  to 
stand  in  front  of  the  tent  and  listen  for  any  untoward 
sounds  from  the  bedding-ground.  He  entered  again. 
He  yawned;  the  boys  yawned.  Kitty  crawled  back 
of  the  stove.  Darkness  was  enshrouding  the  world 
without.  The  uproar  from  the  bedding-ground  was 
diminishing,  as  animal  after  animal  composed  to  rest. 
'Twas  after  eight  o'clock,  and  Gus  began  to  unlace 
his  brogans.  The  boys  pulled  off  their  boots.  They 
all  crawled  in  and  the  lantern  was  extinguished. 

"  Wonder  if  we'll  get  another  notice  to  move,  to- 
night," said  Phil,  suddenly,  breaking  the  silence. 

"  I'm  going  to  listen,"  murmured  Chet,  sleepily. 
"  If  I  hear  anybody  monkeying  around  there's  going  to 
be  trouble." 

And  as  earnest  of  his  intentions  he  presently  lapsed 
into  a  suspiciously  heavy  breathing. 

"  No,  there  won't  be  any  trouble  to-night,"  grunted 
Gus;  and  he,  likewise,  almost  immediately  was  asleep. 

Phil  tried  to  stay  awake,  and  watch  in  behalf  of 
the  camp.  But  amidst  the  intense  stillness,  broken 
only  by  the  gurgles  of  his  companions  and  by  the 


COYOTES,  SHEEP  AND  OUTLAWS  139 

« 
whimperings  of  Kitty,  as  she  dreamed,  and  occasion- 
ally by  a  slumberous  little  baa  from  a  baby  lamb, 
also  dreaming,  he  too  sank  into  deep  unconsciousness. 
Another  night  brooded  over  the  Black  Mesa  lamb- 
ing range. 


CHAPTER  XI 

AGAIN    AN    OLD    ACQUAINTANCE 

But  the  morning  dawned  without  Chet  making  any 
sudden  sally — and  indeed  without  need  for  sudden 
sally  by  anybody ;  for  no  notice  was  found  fastened  to 
the  tent-flaps,  and  the  noise  from  the  bedding-ground 
indicated  that  the  sheep  were  still  on  hand. 

In  the  midst  of  breakfast,  eaten  with  open  tent- 
flaps  that  the  uncertain  animals  might  be  watched, 
Gus  must  jump  to  his  feet  and  run  out,  the  boys  fol- 
lowing; for  the  brown-legged  wether  w^as  leading  a 
bunch  in  one  direction,  and  the  black-face  ewe  a  bunch 
in  another — both  directions  being  wrong.  The  bunches 
must  be  turned  back;  and  now  the  whole  band  wan- 
dered forth,  browsing  and  blatting.  By  the  time  that 
they  were  established  approximately  in  the  right  sec- 
tion, and  the  herders  and  Kitty  might  reseek  tent  and 
breakfast,  the  latter  was  cold.  However,  this  was 
merely  an  incident  of  the  business. 

The  grazing  ground  for  the  day,  as  selected  by 
Gus,  was  below  the  tent,  and  on  a  rolling  flat  inter- 
sected by  a  narrow  strip  of  dried  marsh,  where  earlier 
in  the  season  seepage  would  collect.  But  now  the  reeds 
there  were  dry  and  brittle  and  the  swamp-grass  dead 
and  matted.  The  sheep  browsed  either  side  of  it, 
amidst  the  tall  sage. 

They  were  contented  and  docile,  after  their  early 

140 


AGAIN    AN    OLD    ACQUAINTANCE     141 

morning  attempt.  Gus  sat  down,  and  at  their  posts 
opposite  the  boys  might  sit  down.  They  had  taken 
their  rifles  from  camp  with  them.  It  felt  good  to 
Phil  to  have  the  companionship  again  of  his  trusty 
carbine,  with  its  romantic  history  and  the  bullet  gash 
in  the  stock  where  the  man  with  the  limp  had  left 
a  venomous  sting  that  time  following  the  rescue  of 
Cherry,  in  the  rock  wash.  Spoil  from  an  outlaw*s 
hands — the  hands  of  the  dead  man  with  the  frozen 
smile — the  carbine  had  its  stories  to  tell,  even  of  fights 
with  Indians.  Phil  was  confident  that  it  would  add 
another  coyote  scalp  to  its  record,  if  given  half  a 
chance. 

The  sun  mounted  higher,  and  grew  hotter.  Insects 
buzzed,  the  sky  was  blue,  the  sage  shimmered  and  the 
mesas  and  mountains  rose  bluish  and  mysterious. 
The  lambs  gamboled.  Many  were  arriving  every  day 
and  night.  The  twins  hobbled  together  had  grown 
so  adept  that  they  answered  each  other's  whims  very 
nicely,  and  seemed  but  little  inconvenienced  by  the 
tether. 

About  ten  o'clock  a  horseman  appeared,  riding 
leisurely  and  rather  slouchily  through  the  sage,  ap- 
pearing upon  the  crest  of  a  rise  at  Phil's  right  and 
coming  on  toward  him.  By  his  derby  hat  and  long 
neck  he  was  readily  recognized,  even  afar.  He  was 
the  foreman  of  the  Box  outfit;  and  awaiting  for  him 
to  draw  nearer,  Phil  stood. 

The  sheepman,  sitting  lazily  his  white  horse,  his 
bullet  head  and  long  neck  accentuated  by  the  battered 
derby,  pulled  short  and  halted,  with  a  "  Howdy?  " 


142  iTHE   CIRCLE    K 

"Howdy?"  answered  Phil. 

"  Carryin'  guns,  are  you?"  remarked  the  sheep- 
man. 

"  Yes.  There's  a  coyote  about.  He's  been  after 
the  sheep,  and  last  evening  I  saw  him  jump  on  a  ewe." 

"  Coyotes  are  bad,  but  they're  hard  to  get,"  com- 
mented the  sheepman,  phlegmatically.  "  Lambs  comin' 
on  well?" 

"Fine.  How  are  yours?  You're  settled,  are 
you?" 

"  Surely.  This  is  a  fine  lambin'  range.  Your 
boss  says  he'll  stay." 

"Won't  you?" 

"  We  got  little  remembrances  last  night — notes 
tellin'  us  to  vamose,"  informed  the  sheepman,  without 
apparent  concern.  "  Found  'em  on  our  tents  this 
mornin'.  But  I  don't  reckon  we'll  hit  the  back  trail, 
not  just  yet.  No,"  he  added  softly,  with  his  peculiar 
flicker  of  the  eyelids,  boding  fight,  "  I  don't  reckon 
we  will.  This  is  sheep  country  and  we're  here." 
Chet  had  walked  over.  The  sheepman  surveyed  him 
civilly.    "Howdy?" 

"Did  you  get  notice  too?"  demanded  Chet,  ex- 
cited.   "  Let's  see." 

"  I  fetched  one  along,  for  readin*  matter  on  my 
way."  The  sheepman  drew  a  crumpled  bit  of  paper 
from  his  vest  pocket  and  unfolding  it  handed  it  down. 
"  Somebody's  an  awful  poor  writer.  H  he*ll  come  to 
me  I'll  give  him  a  few  lessons."  He  spat  tobacco 
juice,  and  shifted  in  the  saddle,  at  ease. 

The  note  was  practically  identical  with  the  one 


AGAIN    AN    OLD    ACQUAINTANCE     143 

which  had  been  pinned  upon  the  flaps  of  the  Circle 
K  tent. 

'*  We're  here ;  and  we  don't  get  out,  either,"  rapped 
Chet,  his  tanned  round  face  flushing.  "  They  can't 
bluff  dad." 

"  It's  different,  ain't  it,  when  you're  runnin'  sheep 
than  when  you're  runnin'  cattle?  "  remarked  the  sheep- 
man, with  a  touch  of  sarcasm.  "  I  recollect  when  you 
fellers  would  have  sung  another  song.  But  we're  all 
together  now.  Nobody  bluffs  me,  either.  I  respect 
any  man's  rights,  and  I  respect  my  own,  too;  and  I'll 
fight.    But  I've  got  the  only  gun  in  the  outfit." 

"We've  plenty  of  guns;  haven't  we,  Phil!"  ex- 
claimed Chet.     "  And  we'll  use  them." 

"  Hope  they  raid  you  fust,  then,  if  they  raid  any- 
body. But  there  won't  be  any  raidin',  mebbe.  It's  a 
bad  business  when  cattlemen  think  nobody  can  range 
stock  in  the  open  but  themselves.  I've  got  my  sheep 
through,  to  date,  and  I  think  I'll  get  them  through 
again.     Well,  so  long." 

"  So  long,"  replied  the  boys. 

They  watched  him  ride  away;  he  halted  to  ex- 
change a  few  words  with  Gus,  and  continued. 

"  He's  going  over  to  the  cabin,  I  reckon,"  volun- 
teered Chet.  "  To  see  dad  and  tell  him  about  the 
notices." 

"  There  go  some  of  your  sheep,"  reminded  Phil, 
nodding. 

"  Oh,  thunder !  It's  that  old  brown-legged  fool 
again,"  and  Chet  was  off  on  the  run.  "  Wish  they'd 
raid  him;  he  makes  half  the  trouble," 


144  THE    CIRCLE    K 

Phil  laughed.  Stumbling  and  shouting,  ^Chet 
managed  to  head  the  errant  bunch,  and  turn  it  in. 

An  hour  passed,  and  another  horseman  came  riding. 
At  a  canter  he  was  aiming  to  make  diagonally  through 
the  fringe  of  sheep  on  a  slope  in  Chefs  territory,  and 
Phil  saw  Chet  stand,  and  call,  and  hasten  fearlessly 
out  to  interfere.  The  horseman  altered  his  course 
but  slightly,  and  sending  sheep  and  lambs  scattering 
and  baaing  cantered  out  at  another  point.  Chet  was 
awaiting  him.  Phil  could  hear  his  partner's  high, 
angry  voice,  and  went  over. 

"  You  ought  to  know  better  than  to  ride  through 
sheep  in  lambing  season,"  was  berating  Chet,  who 
never  hesitated  to  speak  stoutly  his  mind,  when  occa- 
sion demanded.  Afraid  of  nothing  was  the  sturdy 
Chet,  of  the  round  face  and  the  tow  hair  and  the 
wide  blue  eyes. 

"  I  didn't  hurt  yore  sheep.  If  I  did,  a  few  woollies 
less  in  this  country  wouldn't  be  a  bad  idee,"  re- 
sponded the  man,  drawling. 

"  And  a  few  less  cattle  rustlers  and  kidnappers 
w^ouldn't  be  a  bad  idea,  too,"  retorted  Chet. 

Phil  knew.  He  had  thought  that  the  voice  was 
familiar.  A  dozen  more  quick  steps,  and  he  found 
himself  with  Chet,  fronting  Joe  the  lame  man:  Joe 
the  lame  man,  hide  thief  and  kidnapper,  first  en- 
countered in  an  arroyo  on  the  Bar  B  cow  range,  where 
he  and  the  man  with  the  one  eye  and  the  man  with  the 
frozen  smile  were  camped,  with  Cherry  whom  they 
had  stolen;  Joe  the  lame  man,  outlaw,  who  had  shot 
Mr.  Simms  through  the  shoulder,  who  had  scarred 


AGAIN    AN    OLD    ACQUAINTANCE     145 

Phil's  carbine  stock  with  a  bullet  and  who  had  been 
killed,  they  all  thought,  by  Charlie  Pow-wow  the  Ute ; 
but  who  had  bobbed  up,  down  in  New  Mexico  on  the 
great  drive,  and  there,  steaHng  Cherry  again  from 
the  tent,  had  shot  the  bristly  man  and  had  at  last 
been  arrested,  with  Foley  the  man  with  the  one  eye, 
by  the  sheriff  of  Blanco  County  and  Charlie  the 
Ute. 

That  was  the  last  thing  Phil  had  heard,  when  after 
the  drive  he  had  pulled  out  on  the  train,  bound  for 
home.  The  brave  sheriff  was  aboard,  and  said  that 
the  two  desperadoes  were  safely  shackled  in  the 
smoker  behind.  And  now  they  both  were  free  again — 
one  by  pardon,  the  other  by  escape. 

The  man  with  the  limp  wore  leather  chaps,  fringed 
in  the  Southwest  fashion.  He  had  a  red  kerchief 
about  his  neck,  and  a  straight-brimmed  sombrero  hat 
on  his  head.  He  was  half  cowboy,  half  desperado. 
His  small,  sharp  features,  his  darting  black  eyes  and 
thin  black  moustache  drooping  at  the  corners,  were 
the  same  as  of  old. 

"  Not  meanin'  anything  pussonal,  I  reckon,"  he 
answered,  to  Chet's  remark;  he  cast  a  momentary 
glance  upon  Phil. 

"  I  mean  you,"  asserted  Chet,  undaunted.  "  Did  you 
see  him  ride  through  our  sheep,  Phil?  Did  it  just 
on  purpose." 

"  Yes,  I  saw  it,"  assured  Phil.  "  I  thought  it  was  a 
dirty  trick." 

*'  Seems  to  me  you  lads  talk  mighty  big,  for  your 
size,"   said  the  lame  man,   his  rather  swarthy  face 


146  THE   CIRCLE    K 

darker.  "  Don't  be  so  peevish.  Forget  yourself, 
once  in  a  while." 

"We  don't  forget  youj'  retorted  Chet.  "Where 
are  you  bound  for  now,  an}"svay?  To  meet  your 
partner?  Wish  there  were  five  hundred  dollars  on 
your  head.    We'd  make  it,  wouldn't  we,  Phil  ?  " 

"  We  shore  would,"  declared  Phil. 

"  You  wouldn't  make  five  hundred  cents,"  sneered 
the  lame  man.  "  What  you  packin'  guns  for  ? 
'Feared  somebody  will  step  on  one  of  yore  woollies? 
Or  'feared  the  cowboys  will  come  an'  run  you  off?  I 
reckon  you  an'  yore  whole  outfit  is  about  where  it 
belongs — herdin'  sheep.     How's  yore  old  man?" 

"  He'll  tell  you  when  he  sees  you." 

"How's  the  sheriff?"  asked  Phil,  quickly.  . 

"  I'm  not  lookin'  for  the  sheriff,"  answered  the 
lame  man.  "  I'm  not  lookin'  for  any  trouble  an'  Fm 
willin'  to  let  bygones  be  bygones.  An'  I'd  recommend 
you  boys  to  do  the  same.  It's  a  good  practice  out  in 
this  country.  Yore  old  man'll  tell  you  so,  even  if  I 
did  beat  him  on  the  draw,  that  time.  Well,  I'll  go  on. 
I  got  business  ahead."  He  grinned  smartly  under  his 
thin  moustache.  "  Don't  go  shootin'  me  in  the  back 
with  yore  pop-guns  when  I  pass.  Might  irritate  me, 
an'  I'm  pretty  quick  with  my  hands,  sometimes." 

He  pricked  his  horse — 2l  speckled  roan — and  started 
on,  at  cow-pony  trot.  While  he  really  could  not  be 
said  to  be  riding  into  the  sheep,  he  did  not  appear  to 
be  avoiding  them;  and  it  did  seem  as  though  on  occa- 
sion he  tried  to  see  how  narrowly  he  might  miss 
stragglers  along  the  edge. 


AGAIN   AN    OLD   ACQUAINTANCE     147 

Gazing  after,  the  boys  could  only  helplessly  ex- 
change indignation. 

"  Oh,  no;  he  isn't  looking  for  trouble! "  exclaimed 
Chet.  "  He'll  make  some  of  his  own  brand.  I  wish 
he'd  keep  away  from  around  here." 

"  So  do  I,"  responded  Phil,  heartily.  "  Hell  have 
to,  when  your  father  and  the  others  know  about  him. 
The  cattlemen  will  run  him  out.  That's  why  he's 
taken  to  the  sheep  country,  I  reckon." 

"  I  reckon  so,"  agreed  Chet. 

Gus  was  making  one  of  his  regular  circuits,  to  keep 
the  sheep  within  bounds,  and  meeting  him  the  bojrs 
related  the  encounter  again  with  the  lame  man — ^which 
did  not  particularly  impress  Gus. 

"  All  sorts  of  people  ride  t'rough  the  sheep  country," 
he  said.  "  Never  pay  attention  to  'em.  W^ien  they 
don't  bodder  me  I  don't  bodder  about  dem."  He  stood, 
soberly  gazing  out  over  the  sheep.  "  That  Box  boss 
says  he  got  some  notices  like  we  did.  Somebody  wants 
to  treat  us  all  alike,  I  guess.  Dere  iss  a  sick  sheep,"  he 
added. 

He  pointed  with  his  staff.  Down  in  an  open  space 
a  grown  ewe  was  standing  stupidly,  with  head  dowTi. 
Even  from  the  distance  could  be  seen  that  her  head 
was  peculiarly  large.  It  was  an  enormous  head;  and 
they  all  went  down  to  examine. 

The  ewe's  head  was  swollen  so  that  her  eyes  were 
well-nigh  closed,  and  it  seemed  heavy  for  her  to  hold. 
When  the  three  approached  she  raised  it  a  little  and 
ambled  forward  a  few  steps,  to  halt  again,  and  stand, 
drowsy  and  inert. 


148  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"  She*s  got  the  big-head,"  observed  Gus. 

"Will  she  die?" 

"  Sometimes  it  kills  dem  and  sometimes  it 
doesn't." 

The  head  was  perfectly  immense — so  immense  and 
puffed  as  to  be  grotesque;  and  certainly  it  must  be 
very  uncomfortable. 

"  I  t'ink  somet'ing  they  eat  causes  it,"  continued 
Gus.  "  Then  dere's  a  worm  that  crawl's  up  their  nose 
while  they  feed  and  lays  eggs  in  their  brain.  That 
give  them  a  bad  head,  too.  Makes  dem  crazy.  They 
run  around  and  tumble  over.  I  guess  we  must  keep 
dem  out  of  that  swamp  bottom.  That  is  where  they 
are  likely  to  get  poison,  feeding  on  the  weeds  dere 
and  the  grass  where  the  bad  water  has  lain." 

"What  do  we  do?  Let  her  be?"  asked  Phil,  in- 
dicating the  sick  ewe. 

"  That  is  all  I  know,"  answered  Gus.  "  Sometimes 
they  get  well  and  sometimes  they  don't." 

"  We'll  drive  those  other  sheep  out  of  the  bottom, 
then,"  volunteered  diet.     "  Come  on,  Phil." 

So  they  left  the  ewe  with  the  big  head  (and  the  next 
morning  she  could  not  be  detected  from  any  of  the 
well  ones),  and  strode  into  the  swamp  bed,  with  wave 
of  arm  and  masterful  step  and  a  few  shouts  to  clear  it 
of  the  sheep. 

Naturally,  because  they  were  not  allowed  there,  the 
sheep  much  opposed  being  ousted.  Just  why  they 
preferred  that  dead  grass  swamp  where  the  herbage 
was  old  and  uninviting  and  the  sun  was  hot,  nobody 
might  say.     In  places  the  receding  water,  evaporated 


AGAIN   AN    OLD   ACQUAINTANCE     149 

by  the  sun,  had  left  a  dried  scum;  perhaps  this  was 
what  had  given  the  ewe  her  "  big-head." 

Not  all  the  grass  and  weeds  were  mashed  down; 
some  stood,  making  little  bunches  here  and  there. 
As  trudging  one  way,  while  Chet  trudged  the  other, 
Phil  searched  about  for  skulkers,  he  came  suddenly 
upon  one  outstretched.  He  could  see  first  only  its 
hind-quarters,  projecting  from  behind  a  weed  clump. 
But  they  were  too  still — all  too  still;  and  stepping 
forward  quickly  he  uncovered  the  mangled  body  of  a 
plump  wether,  only  the  soft  parts  eaten.  A  coyote 
again!  The  coyote,  probably.  Confound  him,  any- 
way. 

At  Phil's  "Whoo-ee!"  Chet  came,  alert  for  what- 
ever might  have  happened  now. 

"  Look  at  that,"  bade  Phil,  touching  with  his 
toe. 

Chet  exclaimed  disgustedly.  And  it  was  enough  to 
make  anybody  both  indignant  and  disgusted — this  fine 
sheep  done  to  death,  and  wasted. 

"  It's  that  same  coyote,  I  bet  you,"  asserted  Chet. 
"  He  must  have  got  this  sheep  while  we  were  talking 
and  walking,  all  around  here."  He  felt.  "  It's  warm 
yet.     Now,  wasn't  that  nerve  ?  " 

"  As  like  as  not  he  was  hiding  here,  and  we  drove 
the  sheep  down  for  him.  He  must  have  thought  us 
obliging." 

Chet  grunted. 

"  There's  four  more  dollars  gone,"  he  complained. 
"  Come  on ;  let's  beat  this  place  and  see  if  he's  in  here 
yet.     He  ought  to  be  killed.     When  you  shoot  don't 


150  THE   CIRCLE    K 

you  miss  him.  And  don't  you  shoot  a  sheep  by 
mistake." 

"  Don't  you,  either,"  retorted  Phil,  a  little  nettled. 
He  flattered  himself  that  he  was  no  more  apt  to  shoot 
a  sheep  by  mistake  than  Chet  was !  But  Chet  intended 
no  slur;  only,  he  was  much  aroused  over  the  nerve  of 
the  coyote. 

They  tramped  the  dried  swamp  thoroughly,  but 
never  another  token  of  Mr.  Coyote  did  they  see. 
It  was  easy  for  him  to  slink  past  them.  In  fact,  he 
could  lie  perfectly  motionless  and  let  them  walk  past 
him;  for  he  would  be  just  about  the  color  of  the  dead 
grass.  With  finger  upon  trigger  of  his  cocked  car- 
bine, and  muscles  ready  to  jerk  the  weapon  to  his 
shoulder  the  instant  that  his  roving  eye  glimpsed  a 
tawny  shape,  Phil  felt  like  a  hunter  about  to  flush 
snipe,  or  woodcock,  or  tiger! 

However,  all  that  was  accomplished  was  to  clear  the 
sheep  and  lambs  out  of  the  forbidden  territory.  And 
by  token  of  the  sun,  and  the  course  which  Gus  and 
Kitty  were  taking,  for  tent  and  nooning,  the  two  boys 
reluctantly  granted  the  coyote  a  reprieve  and  they  also 
made  for  the  tent.  Most  of  the  sheep  were  lying  down, 
to  take  their  own  siesta,  so  that  they  probably  would 
not  stray  back,  right  away,  into  the  danger  zone. 

Upon  hearing  report  of  the  coyote's  work  again 
Gus  w^as  properly  annoyed. 

"  He  probably  wass  laying  right  there  in  that  dead 
grass,"  agreed  Gus.  "  That  wass  a  good  place  for 
him.  When  the  wether  grazed  near,  he  grabbed 
him.     He  iss  an  old  fiend,  now,  all  right.     He  has 


AGAIN    AN    OLD    ACQUAINTANCE     151 

had  his  taste,  and  he  will  do  anyt'ing  to  get  mutton. 
You  saw  how  he  ate  joost  the  soft  parts?  We  surely 
ought  to  stop  him.  It  iss  up  to  you,  boys.  I  have  got 
no  gun.  You  watch  and  some  day  you  will  get  a 
shot." 

"Yes;  and  most  days  we  won't,"  grumbled  Chet. 
"  Looking  for  one  coyote  when  he  has  a  couple  of 
thousand  sheep  spread  over  a  quarter-section  of  sage 
to  choose  from  is  heap  uncertain." 

"  One  of  us  can  hide  in  that  swampy  place,"  sug- 
gested Phil. 

"  You  can  if  you  want  to.  But  I'm  going  to  take 
the  sheep  out  of  dere,  after  dinner.  It  iss  not  a  place 
for  sheep." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  SCOURGER  OF  THE  FLOCK 

Accordingly,  after  dinner  they  drove  the 
reluctant  sheep  from  the  low  sage  and  the  swamp  to 
the  approximately  higher  ground,  where  the  brush 
merged  into  scrub-oak  and  aspen.  This  was  a  pleasan- 
ter  region — much  like  that  region  across  from  it,  where 
the  sheep  had  been  as  mentioned,  two  or  three  days 
before. 

"  If  you  like  to  get  that  coyote,"  had  advised  Gus, 
"  one  of  you  ought  to  go  in  that  timber  early  and 
joost  sit  dere.  He  will  come  out  about  sundown, 
ready  for  more  mutton.  Now  he  iss  sleeping  some- 
where in  the  shade.  He  may  have  a  hole.  You  get 
somewhere  and  stay.  If  you  don't,  you  won't  see 
him  while  you  have  a  gun." 

"  Phil  can  go  and  sit,  first.  I'll  herd,"  said  Chet. 
"  I'll  watch  that  swamp  place,  too.  I  can  sit  near 
that,  and  he  may  come  there." 

This  was  Chet's  flank,  anyway,  so  Phil  accepted  the 
aspen  and  oak  territory.  Gus,  as  usual,  was  in  be- 
tween. And  sooth  to  say,  Chet  had  the  more  work, 
for  the  sheep  were  bound  to  drift  for  the  swampy 
place. 

Among  the  slim  white-trunked  aspens  and  the 
shrubby  oaks  was  the  best  place  of  all.     The  shade 

153 


THE    SCOURGER   OF   THE   FLOCK     153 

and  the  sun  mingled  upon  the  ground ;  tall  flowers  had 
up-sprung;  and  the  scent  of  leafy  mould  mingled  with 
that  of  oak  and  sage.  The  sheep  were  sifting  through, 
from  the  open  country,  seeking  the  shade  and  the  de- 
lightful browsing  upon  twigs,  for  sheep  are  always 
afraid  of  the  new  and  yet  always  questing  it.  It 
struck  Phil,  noting  the  incomers,  that  they  would 
rather  reach  high  and  grab  down  one  spray  of  un- 
known weed,  than  take  the  juiciest  grass  about  their 
hoofs. 

There  was  nothing  for  him  to  do;  there  was  nothing 
for  anyone  to  do,  yet,  before  sunset.  He  chuckled  as 
he  thought  of  Chet,  who  must  guard  the  dead  swamp, 
but  from  the  quiet  which  reigned,  broken  by  only 
an  occasional  blat,  he  judged  that  both  Chet  and  Gus 
were  taking  things  easy. 

So  he  wandered  along,  among  the  sparse  trees,  his 
eyes  ready  to  select  some  spot  overlooking  a  likely 
byway  for  the  coyote.  What  he  had  in  mind  was  a 
spot,  screened  by  tree  or  bush,  commanding  an  open 
tract  which  the  coyote  would  be  apt  to  cross.  On  the 
farther  side  the  strip  of  timber  contained  cedars  and 
a  few  pifions,  and  these  in  turn  ceased  at  the  border 
of  a  shallow  draw,  or  flat,  where  in  the  spring  water 
would  collect,  but  where  now  was  a  mere  trace  of  ooze 
in  the  middle,  and  blotches  of  alkali  to  mark  the  edge. 
No  trees  or  brush  grew  within  one  hundred  feet  of 
this  edge.  This  struck  Phil  as  a  good  post  for  him. 
The  upper  part  of  the  basin  narrowed  and  extended  on 
between  two  cedared,  rocky  hills,  to  make  a  little 
gulch.    And  up  in  this  gulch  the  coyote  ought  to  have 


154  .THE   CIRCLE    K 

his  home.  Whether  he  did  or  not  nobody  could  tell, 
for  a  coyote  is  independent,  and  as  Chet  had  remarked, 
to  look  for  one  coyote  in  a  quarter-section  of  sheep  is 
uncertain  work. 

A  lively  odor  assailed  Phil's  nostrils ;  and  following 
it  gingerly,  back  from  the  edge  of  the  basin  he  came 
upon  the  mummifying  and  decaying  carcass  of  a  lamb. 
It  was  hard  to  tell  whether  this  was  another  coyote 
victim;  maybe  it  had  died  naturally.  But  there  were 
coyote  tracks  leading  around  it — imprints  in  sand  and 
mud  and  dust  like  the  imprints  of  a  small-footed  dog. 

Phil  went  back  into  the  cedars,  and  carefully  settled 
behind  a  crooked  trunk  against  which  were  growing 
purple-flowered  weeds.  By  sitting  flat  and  leaning  his 
elbow  upon  the  crooked  trunk  he  was  quite  comfort- 
able. He  had  a  clear  view  of  the  basin,  of  both  edges 
and  of  the  lower  end.  The  scent  of  the  decaying 
Iamb  was  pretty  bad,  but  he  had  an  idea  that  a  coyote 
would  smell  the  scent  and  would  not  smell  him.  Per- 
haps the  coyote,  after  his  siesta  up  in  the  little  gulch, 
would  pause  here  for  a  drink  out  of  one  of  the  cuppy 
spots  where  the  water  still  oozed,  and  for  a  nice 
smell  to  sharpen  his  appetite,  and  he,  Phil,  from  am- 
bush would  pop  him. 

Phil  sat  long  almost  motionless.  Occasionally  he 
must  straighten  a  leg,  or  shift  an  elbow,  but  he  did 
so  cautiously;  for  there  was  no  knowing  where  the 
coyote  might  be.  In  this  pleasant  weather  he  would 
need  no  den,  and  would  lie  and  sleep  and  digest  where- 
ever  he  fancied.  He  might  be  up  in  the  little  gulch, 
or  he  might  be  a  mile  away,  or  he  might  be  in  some 


THE    SCOURGER    OF    THE    FLOCK     155 

hollow  among  these  very  aspens  and  oaks,  or  out 
in  the  thick  brush.  So  sighting  him  was  but  a  mere 
chance.  However,  Phil  found  the  vigil  not  at  all 
wearisome.  The  air  was  perfectly  still,  not  a  breath 
of  a  breeze  stirred  it.  The  fitful  baaing  of  the  sheep 
sounded  musically.  A  magpie  croaked  with  a  voice 
not  unlike  a  jay's.  So  quiet  and  obscure  was  Phil, 
his  carbine  across  his  knees,  that  under  his  feet  a 
wood-mouse  rustled,  burrowing  fearfully  about  for 
seeds.  A  gray-blue  pine-squirrel  ran  down  a  cedar, 
from  somewhere,  and  scampered  across  the  ground,  to 
shin  another  tree,  and  sit  and  chatter.  He  saw  Phil, 
which  was  provoking.  But  who  can  fool  a  squirrel? 
Finally  he  went  about  his  business  of  ransacking  the 
boughs  for  cones.  A  sudden  silence  fell  upon  the  tim- 
ber, and  presently  a  great  hawk  with  tail  gray  and 
under  wings  white  sailed  through.  Phil  could  see  his 
yellow  eyes  bent  downward,  searching;  he  hovered 
low  over  the  basin,  and  proceeded  on,  across,  to  dis- 
appear. Even  the  wood-mouse  had  known  about  him, 
and  he  got  nothing. 

Now  a  chipmunk,  striped  with  black  and  yellow, 
scurried  along  the  very  trunk  upon  which  Phil's  arm 
was  resting,  and  the  little  patch  of  woodland  resumed 
its  life  again.  As  the  sheep  penetrated  further  and 
further,  in  their  greedy,  persistent  straying,  their  mut- 
terings  and  munchings  sounded  closer.  Phil  could 
descry  their  van,  among  the  brush  and  trunks.  Soon 
they  would  be  leaking  through  to  this  side.  A  fat 
ewe,  edging  on  and  cropping  busily  as  if  afraid  that 
she  might  be  asked  to  share  her  morsels,  edged  nearer 


6  THE    CIRCLE    K 


and  nearer  to  Phil,  who  watched  curiously,  to  see 
how  long  it  would  be  before  she  was  aware  of  him. 
Facing  him,  in  the  middle  of  a  mouthful  slie  suddenly 
glimpsed  him.  She  stared,  startled,  her  funny  sheep 
jaws  moving  rapidly  as  she  chewed.  With  an  alarmed 
little  baa  she  wheeled  and  went  trotting  off,  occasion- 
ally looking  back,  as  if  she  had  been  caught  at  some 
forbidden  act.  Phil  silently  laughed.  But  other 
sheep  continued  to  come  on;  the  timber  patch  was 
filled  with  them,  old  and  young,  chattering  and  eating. 

By  their  haste  anybody  would  have  known  that  the 
close  of  the  day  was  at  hand.  Moreover,  the  sun  was 
again  low,  his  beams  slanting  diagonally  athwart  the 
oozy  basin  and  searching  the  trees.  From  toward  the 
gulch  a  querulous  and  plaintive  murmur  drifted  down; 
to  Phil,  listening  for  every  alien  sound,  it  seemed  to  be 
kitten  voices,  and  he  thought  of  bob-cats,  but  soon 
decided  that  it  was  only  a  family  of  speckled  wood- 
peckers at  supper. 

Lower  sank  the  sun.  The  air  was  balmy  and  gol- 
den, with  just  a  suspicion  of  a  chill,  heralding  the 
evening  and  the  night.  It  was  time  that  the  sheep 
were  being  herded  to  the  bedding-ground,  and  by  the 
increasing  uproar,  distant  in  the  sage  outside  the 
woodland,  Gus  and  Chet  were  commencing  the  even- 
ing drive.  Now  the  vigil  was  becoming  irksome.  Phil 
eyed  keenly  the  basin,  in  the  direction  of  the  little 
gulch,  for  sight  of  a  lithe  yellowish  form  emerging 
upon  a  foray.  But  he  made  out  nothing  at  all.  The 
basin  remained  devoid  of  moving  life,  and  desolate. 
He  would  stay  until  the  sun  had  set,  which  now  would 


THE    SCOURGER   OF   THE    FLOCK     157 

not  be  long,  for  the  hill  across  from  him  would  swallow 
it  early.  The  basin  and  timber  would  be  darkling 
while  yet  the  open  and  the  sage  were  flooded  with 
light.  He  carefully  raised  his  carbine  and  aimed  out 
over  the  basin,  to  be  certain  that  he  could  see  his 
sights.  A  few  minutes  more,  and  he  must  arise  and 
drive  out  the  sheep,  to  join  the  herd  for  the  bedding- 
ground. 

At  this  instant  he  heard  a  sharp  report.  It  was 
Chet's  rifle.  The  sheep  and  he,  poised,  listened  eagerly 
together.  Utter  silence  followed  the  shot,  which 
seemed  to  man  and  beast  alike  an  omen  of  danger. 
The  coyote!  Chet  must  have  seen  the  coyote!  He 
hoped  that  Chet  had  got  him,  did  Phil.  Of  course,  he 
would  prefer  getting  him,  himself — ^but  anything  to 
rid  the  range  of  the  cruel  destroyer. 

The  shot  probably  had  spoiled  his  chances,  and  he 
stood,  relieved.  The  sheep  were  cropping  as  fast  as 
they  could,  again;  but  he  waited,  for  a  last  look  ere 
stepping  out  and  confronting  them  to  drive  them  from 
their  coverts.     And  he  saw  the  coyote! 

It  came  trotting  swiftly  from  the  lower  end  of  the 
basin.  Its  bushy  tail  was  drooped,  and  its  pricked- 
eared  head  was  held  in  line,  and  it  moved  in  business- 
like, disturbed  fashion  as  if  routed  from  one  quarter 
and  making  for  another  and  shelter.  It  occurred  to 
Phil  that  Chet  must  have  shot  at  him  and  missed. 
Phil  impulsively  raised  his  carbine,  scarcely  venturing 
to  move  except  to  twist  slowly  so  as  to  bring  his 
shoulder  around.  The  coyote  was  a  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  away,  and  the  chance  of  hitting  him  on  the  trot 


158  THE    CIRCLE    K 

at  this  distance  and  in  this  poor  hght  was  slim.  But 
the  little  carbine  would  do  its  best. 

Even  as  Phil  dropped  his  cheek  to  the  stock,  and 
held  his  breath,  for  steady  aim,  the  coyote  stopped 
short,  and  sank  to  his  belly  on  the  dead  turf.  He  had 
sighted  or  had  scented  the  sheep.  A  small  bunch  had 
sidled  to  the  edge  of  the  trees,  and  were  feeding  there 
— ^gobbling  so  that  they  had  ears  nor  nose  nor  eyes 
for  anything  but  supper.  The  coyote  was  almost  in- 
distinguishable. 'Twas  wonderful  how  he  had  merged 
with  the  ground.  He  was  oblivious  to  danger  behind 
him,  oblivious  to  the  shot  which  had  sent  him  forth; 
he  saw  mutton.  His  ears  pricked  and  flattened  again ; 
Phil  could  fairly  see  the  saliva  dribble  from  his  jaws  as 
he  began  a  stealthy  slinking,  nearer  and  nearer  to  the 
cover  of  the  trees  which  would  afford  him  his  stalking 
ground. 

The  shot  must  be  made  now  or  never.  But  what  a 
thirsty,  bold  beast  this  was,  to  halt  right  in  the  midst 
of  flight  and  essay  another  attack!  Phil  again  drew 
breath,  and  tried  to  take  very  fine,  steady  aim.  The 
carbine  was  sighted  for  the  point-blank,  or  one  hun- 
dred yards.  Phil  bethought  to  draw  bead  just  a  frac- 
tion high.  He  held  his  breath  to  the  last  moment — 
and  pulled  the  trigger.  The  coyote  was  but  a  blur, 
as  he  did  so. 

The  sharp  report,  the  slight  recoil,  and  the  great 
leap  of  the  coyote  occurred  at  the  same  instant.  Phil 
stared  exultant;  where  had  been  the  blur  was  now  a 
confused,  whirling,  sprawling  mass  of  dingy  yellow. 
In  one  direction  ran  the  sheep,  baaing  affrightedly. 


THE    SCOURGER    OF    THE    FLOCK     159 

Throwing  in  a  second  cartridge  as  he  went,  in  the 
other  direction  ran  Phil.  He  paused,  took  quick  aim, 
and  shot  again.  The  confusedly  leaping  and  sprawl- 
ing mass  sank,  and  remained  stationary.  Phil  ap- 
proached, reconnoitering,  carbine  again  ready.  The 
coyote  lay,  kicking.  Shot  through  and  through,  once 
by  way  of  the  fore  shoulders  and  once  diagonally 
along  the  back,  mangled  as  he  was,  as  Phil  drew  near 
he  lifted  his  head  and  snarled.  Then  his  head 
dropped,  his  fierce  yellow  eyes  dulled  and  glazed,  he 
gasped  and  was  dead. 

Breathless,  Phil  gazed  down  like  a  conqueror  upon 
him.  This  must  have  been  the  "  old  fiend."  Now  the 
scourge  of  the  lambing  range  was  gone.  He  might 
have  successors,  but  he  himself  would  sneak  and  slay 
no  more.  Phil  tentatively  touched  him  with  a  foot. 
Yes,  he  must  have  been  the  "  old  fiend ;  "  proof  of  his 
guilt,  in  the  shape  of  dried  blood,  was  upon  his  jaws. 
Yet  as  Phil  stood,  surveying  the  lax,  stretched  and 
mangled  body  and  the  grinning  snout  from  which  the 
lips  had  retracted  in  a  last  snarl,  he  felt  a  little  wave 
of  pity.     The  coyote  had  but  pursued  his  instinct. 

However,  there  were  the  defenseless,  silly  sheep  to 
think  of.  It  was  death  to  the  sheep  or  death  to  the 
coyote,  and  bold  to  the  last  the  wild  thing  had  died 
defiantly. 

"Did  you  get  him?" 

Twas  Chet's  eager  voice,  as  he  now  came  plunging 
and  running,  his  face  red,  his  eyes  round. 

"  Sure  I  did,"  responded  Phil.    "  See  him?  " 

"Oh,  jiminy!"     Chet  too  surveyed,  panting.     His 


i6o  THE   CIRCLE    K 

exclamation  was  partly  chagrin  and  partly  satisfac- 
tion. "  That's  the  same  one.  Look  at  the  blood  on 
his  chops?  I  missed  him.  Did  you  hear  me 
shoot?" 

"  Yes.    I  thought  it  was  you.    Where  was  he  ?  '* 

"  Right  in  that  dried  swamp.  I  jumped  him.  He 
was  laying  for  more  sheep.  But  I  didn't  get  a  good 
chance.  It's  shore  him,  though.  Gus  will  be  glad. 
What  was  he  doing?  " 

"  Making  off,  across  here.  Then  he  saw  these  other 
sheep,  and  stopped  and  sneaked  for  them." 

"  He  ran  right  through  the  whole  bunch.  I  hoped 
you'd  sight  him.    Where  were  you? " 

"  Over  there,  in  those  cedars." 

"  Did  you  hit  him  both  times?  " 

"  Yes.  I  shot  the  second  time  to  make  sure  of 
him." 

"  That's  pretty  good,  anyway,"  approved  Chet. 
"  Those  thirty-thirties  make  an  awful  hole,  don't 
they!" 

"  I  should  say.  But  he  wasn't  dead.  He  snarled 
at  me." 

"  A  coyote  shore  takes  a  lot  of  killing,"  observed 
Chet,  sagely.    "  Phew !    I  smell  something  else  dead." 

'*  That's  a  dead  lamb,  over  where  I  was.  I  stayed 
near  it,  so  the  coyote  wouldn't  smell  me/* 

"  There's  some  class  to  you  as  a  hunter,  isn't 
there ! "  bantered  Chet.  "  I've  got  to  go  back  and 
help  Gus.  What  are  you  going  to  do?  Leave  it 
here?" 

"  I'll  take  it  out  far  enough  to  show  Gus." 


THE    SCOURGER    OF   THE    FLOCK     i6i 

**  All  right.  But  I  reckon  he's  seen  lots  of  'em. 
I've  got  to  go."    And  away  hustled  Chet. 

Phil  gingerly  picked  up  the  bleeding  coyote  by  the 
tail,  and  half  carrying  him,  half  dragging  him,  with 
the  carbine  in  the  other  hand,  started  in  to  drive  out 
the  sheep  for  the  open  and  the  main  band.  He  had  no 
difficulty,  this  time.  The  sight  and  the  taint  of  that 
carcass  sent  the  sheep  scurrying  frantically  for  safety 
among  their  fellows,  and  ranging  through  the  aspens 
he  soon  had  the  field  cleared  of  woolly  people.  When 
he  emerged,  himself,  he  shouted  at  Gus,  below  in  the 
sage,  and  gleefully  held  up  the  carcass. 

Gus  obliqued  over,  and  met  him.  Phil  tossed  the 
carcass  down  before  him.    The  herder  grunted. 

"  Got  him,  all  right,  didn't  you,"  he  remarked.  His 
face  was  sober,  as  ever ;  even  the  sight  of  the  old  fiend 
now  made  harmless  did  not  cause  him  to  smile;  but 
he  kicked  the  mass,  and  his  eyes  snapped.  *'  You 
devil,"  he  addressed.  ''  You  get  no  more  of  my  sheep. 
You  started  in  right  off  to  live  on  mutton  all  summer, 
but  now  you  are  fooled." 

"  I  had  to  shoot  him  twice,"  volunteered  Phil. 

*'  I  shoot  dem  once,  joost  once,  t' rough  the  stomach, 
and  then  I  stand  and  watch  dem  twist  end  for  end. 
They  die,  but  it  takes  dem  a  long  while,"  observed 
Gus,  viciously.  "  You  shoot  dem  that  way,  next  time, 
and  have  fun."  He  kicked  the  carcass  again,  and 
turned  away. 

How  he  hated  the  coyote!  He  had  reason  to;  but 
Phil  could  not  share  the  hatred.  The  coyote's  instincts 
were  for  mutton,  as  the  cat's  are  for  birds  and  mice; 


i62  THE    CIRCLE    K 

and  when  it  came  to  shooting  the  animal  to  make  him 
suffer  as  much  as  possible,  Phil  shrank.  The  cow 
range  and  the  sheep  range,  the  timber  and  the  brush, 
have  enough  of  suffering  without  wantonly  inflicting 
more. 

Kitty,  too,  investigated  the  carcass.  Inch  by  inch  she 
approached,  lips  curling,  bristles  rising,  eyes  glaring, 
until  she  could  smell  of  it.  Then,  with  a  low  growl,  she 
backed  away  from  it.  And  trotting  at  Gus'  heels,  she 
followed  him  as  he  strode  to  his  post  behind  the  sheep. 
Leaving  the  carcass  lying,  in  the  sage  at  the  edge  of 
the  aspens,  Phil  joined  in  the  drive. 

Jostling,  grabbing,  halting,  baaing,  as  usual,  the 
band  of  sheep  flowed  on,  evidently  with  never  a 
thought  of  their  late  arch  enemy  crumpled  and  bloody 
and  ghastly,  despised  by  man  and  dog,  food  now  for 
the  buzzards  and  the  flies  and  the  worms.  His  hunt- 
ings were  over  forever. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

[A   COMEDY  AND  A  TRAGEDY 

A  WEEK  had  passed,  and  now,  about  an  hour  after 
sunrise,  the  two  boys  were  watching  Gus  putting  coal- 
oil  upon  a  wounded  lamb.  This  was  one  of  the  twins. 
They  had  been  released  from,  the  hobble,  and  it  was 
amusing  to  see  how  each  would  run  and  get  the  other 
when  hungry  and  wanting  to  drink.  If  the  other  was 
lying  down,  then  the  hungry  baby  would  butt  him 
and  paw  him  and  insist  that  he  rise  and  come  along; 
for  the  mother  ewe  would  not  give  milk  to  either 
alone.    They  must  both  be  there. 

The  baby  in  Gus*  hands  had  been  hurt,  somehow, 
while  dragged  about  by  his  sister  through  the  brush, 
and  the  wound  had  festered  until  upon  his  flank  was 
a  sore  almost  covering  it  and  already  swarming  with 
maggots.  With  rare  tenderness  Gus  was  holding  him 
between  knees,  and  was  pouring  into  the  sore  coal-oil 
from  an  old  tin-can.  The  coal-oil  was  part  of  the  lan- 
tern supply. 

"  That  will  fix  it,"  crooned  Gus.  "  Dere,  little  fel- 
low. Dey  don't  like  their  dose,  do  dey?  See  dem 
coome  out.    Coal-oil  and  maggots  don't  mix." 

Up  through  the  saturated  wool  and  flesh  the  pests 
came  squirming  and  twisting,  to  drop  to  the  ground 
as  soon  as  they  could  get  free. 

163 


i64  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"  It  must  sting,  though,"  remarked  Phil ;  and  Chet 
murmured  assent.  But  the  lamb  made  not  a  move- 
ment ;  except,  when  Gus  released  him,  he  went  off  with 
sundry  kicks  and  curvets,  token  of  his  unusual  sensa- 
tion behind. 

**  That  beats  dad's  hawss  liniment,"  grinned  Chet. 
"  Remember  how  he  put  some  on  his  shoulder,  after 
the  man  with  the  limp  had  shot  him,  and  he  had  to 
run  all  over  the  yard  to  keep  from  yelling?  " 

Phil  remembered.  That  was  during  his  early  ex- 
periences on  the  Bar  B  ranch. 

"  You  can't  beat  coal-oil  to  dose  an  open  wound  like 
that  with,"  said  Gus.  "  Once  iss  enough  for  those 
flies'  eggs.  Only,  you  can't  use  it  on  a  lamb  when 
he  is  very  young,  or  his  mother  won't  take  him  back." 

"  Doesn't  she  like  the  smell?  " 

"  She  doesn't  know  him.  For  the  first  few  days  a 
ewe  goes  by  smell,  and  if  the  lamb  does  not  smell 
right,  she  butts  him  away.  After  she  get  to  know 
his  voice,  den  you  can  dose  him  any  way  you  like." 

"A  cow  can  tell  her  calf  any  time  after  he's  born, 
no  matter  how  he  smells,"  promptly  asserted  Ghet — 
champion  of  the  cattle  range. 

"  Sure  she  can,"  agreed  Phil.  "  She  knows  his 
voice  right  away." 

"  Well,  the  more  you  stay  around  sheep,  the  more 
peculiar  they  get,"  observed  Gus.  "  And  the  less  sense 
they  show  when  you  want  dem  to  show  any" 

From  the  tent  where  she  now  was  tied  during  these 
days  when  the  lambs  were  coming  thick  and  fast,  and 
all  the  band  was  nervous  and  skittish  with  the  care 


A    COMEDY    AND    A    TRAGEDY       165 

of  the  youngsters,  Kitty  was  barking  in  challenge.  A 
horseman  was  riding  past  her,  and  approaching  where 
stood  Gus  and  the  boys.  It  was  Haney  the  Texan. 
From  under  his  broad  hat  and  red  thatch  of  hair  he 
grinned. 

"  Howdy,"  he  greeted.  "  Thought  we'd  laike  to 
borrow  Smith- Jones  a  minute.  Terrible  animal  done 
et  up  a  sheep  on  us,  hide  an'  bones  an'  all.  I'm  scaired, 
an'  so  is  Hombre.  Bettuh  come  ovuh,  Smith-Jones, 
an'  kill  him  foh  us,  'foh  he  knows  you're  in  the  country 
an'  lights  out." 

"What  is  it?"  queried  Gus. 

"  Dunno,  me,"  answered  Haney,  calmly.  *'  Ain't 
any  ol'  coyote.  Ain't  any  bear.  Ain't  any  lion. 
Hombre,  he's  got  a  name  foh  him.  I'm  too  scaired  to 
name  him.  I'm  ridin'  to  taown,  to  tell  moh  people 
about  him." 

It  was  hard  to  guess  how  much  of  Haney's  tale  was 
earnest  and  how  much  nonsense.  It  was  true  that  he 
was  riding  in  to  town — but  that  he  was  after  more 
help  was  a  joke.  To  pretend  fear  was  one  of  Haney's 
favorite  amusements. 

"  Yes,  suh ;  pity  the  pore  sheep-herder,  out  all  alone 
in  his  tent  among  the  wild  beasts,"  commented  Haney. 
"  Bettuh  go  right  ovuh,  Smith- Jones.  Hombre's  wait- 
in'  foh  you." 

"  Somet'ing  did  that  with  me  up  in  Wyoming, 
two  years  ago,"  said  Gus ;  "  and  we  never  did  find  out 
what  it  wass." 

"Let's  go  over;  shall  we?"  urged  Chet,  eagerly. 

"  Co  ahead,"  bade  Gus,    "  Might  as  well  ride  on 


i66  THE    CIRCLE    K 

to  the  cabin  and  tell  the  camp-tender  we're  out  of 
sugar  and  baking  powder." 

So  gladly  they  caught  Pepper  and  Medicine  Eye, 
who  grazed  below  the  tent  hour  after  hour  and  had 
little  to  do.  Rifle  and  carbine  under  leg,  the  boys 
galloped  off.     Phil  drew  a  long  breath. 

"It  feels  good  to  be  in  the  saddle,  again,  doesn't 
it !  "  he  said. 

"  It  shore  does,"  agreed  Chet.  And  with  a  shrill 
cow-puncher  yelp  he  pricked  with  the  spurs  and  was 
away  at  a  tearing  run.  Phil,  echoing  the  whoop,  kept 
pace.  After  their  breather  they  pulled  down  and 
could  proceed  more  soberly. 

The  camp  of  Haney  and  Hombre  was  located  about 
a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  southeast ;  across  the  brush,  up 
a  ridge,  across  a  wide  flat,  into  a  rocky  gulch  and  out 
again  down  into  a  wide  draw  or  shallow  valley,  on 
the  opposite  slope  of  which  began  a  tract  of  dense 
timber,  rising  to  mountain  height  beyond.  It  was  a 
wilder  site  than  the  site  of  the  boys'  and  Gus'  camp. 
As  the  boys  neared,  the  baaing  of  sheep  floated  up  to 
greet  them. 

"  There's  the  tent,"  spoke  Chet,  pointing  where  the 
gleam  of  canvas,  struck  by  the  sun,  made  a  white  spot 
amidst  the  sage  down  toward  the  bottom  of  the  valley. 

They  rode  for  it,  recklessly  trotting  and  glorying  in 
even  the  jar  which  comes  from  such  a  gait  down-hill. 

"  There's  Hombre,  too,"  added  Phil.  "  He's  doing 
something  on  the  bedding-ground,  to  a  lamb." 

Hombre  was  at  the  edge  of  the  bedding-ground. 
As  the  boys  rode  to  him  he  had  just  tied  a  little  lamb's 


A   COMEDY    AND    A   TRAGEDY       167 

feet  together  and  was  laying  it  down.  He  looked  up 
and  flashed  his  sunny  smile. 

''  Buenas  dias,  Hombre,"  they  greeted. 

"  Bueno,  btieno,"  he  answered.  "  You  come  fore 
'nother  carcajou,  hey?  He  keel  one  wether  an'  eat 
her  all  up  excep'  hoofs.    Haney  tell  you?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Chet.  "  What  you  doing, 
Hombre?" 

''  Goin'  to  put  jacket  on  dees  little  bum,  an'  fool  that 
mammy.  She  t'ink  eet  her  own  lamb.  He  dead.  You 
see  ?  She  been  standin'  right  there  all  mornin',  waitin' 
for  heem  to  get  up.  But  heem  never  get  up  again,  I 
guess.  I  t'ink  she  lay  on  heem  during  night  an'  smash 
breath  out  of  heem." 

On  the  bedding-ground  a  ewe  was  standing,  alone, 
over  the  body  of  her  lamb.  Occasionally  she  smelled 
of  it,  and  nuzzled  it;  then  she  would  lift  her  head  and 
plaintively  baa,  gazing  about  as  if  asking  for  some 
one  to  come  and  tell  her  what  might  be  the  matter. 

"If  no  one  drive  her  off  she  stay  there  all  day; 
stay  till  maybe  she  starve,"  said  Hombre.  **  But  now 
we  fool  her." 

"How?"  queried  Phil. 

"  You  drive  her  off  a  little  way,  an'  hold  her,  an' 
I  show  you,"  answered  Hombre. 

The  boys  dismounted,  and  drove  the  unwilling  ewe 
(who  dodged  and  balked  persistently)  from  her  place. 
Hombre  went  quickly  to  the  dead  lamb,  and  ripping 
it  down  the  stomach  with  his  pocket-knife  deftly  re- 
moved the  skin  entire,  from  neck  to  hoofs ;  yes,  even 
the  tail. 


1 68  THE   CIRCLE    K 

"  Now  I  give  you  nice  overcoat,"  he  said,  to  the 
trussed  lamb,  lying  v^here  he  had  put  it.  And  raising 
it,  sure  enough  he  did,  slipping  the  limp  hide  upon  the 
back  of  the  scrawny  bum,  and  tying  it  there  with  a 
cord  run  around  the  neck  and  under  the  stomach. 

"  There,"  quoth  Hombre,  much  satisfied,  cutting 
the  hobbles  from  the  bum's  feet.  "  You  got  no 
mammy,  she  got  no  baby.  Maybe  I  mek  a  trade  for 
you." 

He  threw  the  skinned  carcass  into  the  brush,  and 
put  the  bum  on  the  spot  where  the  carcass  had  been. 

"  She  can  come  back  now,"  he  called.  "  You  watch. 
You  see  somet'ing  funny." 

The  boys  saw  something  funny  already.  The  bum 
— poor,  half  famished  creature — was  miserably  thin 
and  tottering.  He  must  have  been  deserted  practically 
at  birth.  His  head  and  eyes  were  big,  his  body  small. 
The  pelt  fastened  upon  him  gave  him  eight  legs  and 
two  tails.  Four  legs  touched  the  ground,  and  he  of 
course  stood  on  them;  the  other  four  dangled,  one  at 
each  corner  of  him.  One  tail  was  extended,  feebly; 
the  other  hung  straight  down.  He  straddled,  trem- 
bling, frightened;  he  baaed  faintly.  At  the  baa,  the 
ewe,  released  from  the  durance  which  had  kept  her 
away,  came  trotting.  She  paused,  she  stared,  she 
advanced  a  few  steps,  and  the  pitiable  little  bum,  in 
his  eyes  and  voice  hope  that  he  w^as  to  be  granted  a 
sup  or  two  (all  ewes  looked  alike  to  him,  the  outcast) 
tottered  to  meet  her.  Suspiciously  she  smelled  of 
him;  he  nuzzled  frantically,  his  only  thought  to  get  a 
drink  before  he  was  again  butted  away. 


A    COMEDY   AND    A    TRAGEDY       169 

The  ewe  bleated  hesitantly,  inquiringly.  She  was 
not  entirely  assured.  This  was  wonderful  to  her — 
her  baby  had  been  flat  and  unresponsive,  and  now, 
suddenly  here  he  was,  on  his  feet,  appearing  odd  but 
smelling  naturally,  and  ready  for  breakfast. 

The  boys  pealed  with  laughter;  the  ewe  gazed  back 
at  them  reproachfully,  as  if  wondering  whether  they 
were  laughing  at  her,  and  why? 

Hombre  was  delighted. 

''  Bueno !  "  he  said.  "  She  tek  him.  We  lose  one 
lamb,  but  we  save  'nother.  Pretty  soon  she  get  to 
know  hees  voice,  den  I  tek  off  pelt,  'fore  it  get  rotten. 
It  dry  on  heem  an'  he  stick  fast.  Have  to  skin  dead 
lambs  soon,  or  pelt  too  cold  an'  no  good.  There,  little 
feller.  I  guess  you  bust  yourself  drinkin'.  We  let 
heem  drink  an'  den  she  tek  him  off  into  brush.  She 
t'ink  her  baby  come  back  an'  he  t'ink  he  got  a  mammy, 
so  they  stay  together,  now  on.  Ain't  that  good 
scheme,  hey?  " 

"  It  shore  is,   Hombre,"  complimented  both  boys. 

"  Have  to  do  it  'fore  lambs  get  very  old,"  explained 
Hombre,  still  much  pleased  over  the  success  of  his 
experiment.  "  'Fore  mammy  ewe  knows  her  baby's 
voice.  If  she  had  learned  hees  voice,  den  she  won't 
be  fooled.  Can  give  baby  lamb  other  lamb's  smell, 
but  can't  give  him  other  lamb's  voice.  That  mammy 
get  to  know  her  little  bum's  voice  soon." 

"  Now  where's  the  place  the  wether  was  killed,  and 
eaten  up  ?  "  asked  Phil. 

"You  see  over  there?"  and  Hombre  pointed. 
"  You  see  one  dead  pine,  on  edge  of  timber?    You  go 


I70  THE   CIRCLE    K 

straight  in  behind  that,  little  way,  an'  you  come  to 
bloody  spot  an'  four  hoofs.  That  what  left  of  big 
wether." 

"  How  do  you  know  it  was  a  wether?  "  demanded 
Phil,  as  he  and  Chet  mounted. 

"  Look  like  wether  hoofs,"  responded  Hombre, 
simply.  "  An'  I  miss  one  big  wether  rascal,  so  I  guess 
it  he.  I  tell  him  once  if  he  go  in  that  timber  place 
something  get  him,  an'  somet'ing  did." 

"What  was  it?" 

Hombre  shook  his  head  solemnly. 

"  Quien  sabe  (who  knows)  ?  "  he  answered.  "  Bad 
t'ing — carcajou,  I  t'ink.  No  bear.  He  eat  part  an' 
leave  rest;  mebbe  drag  it  little  way.  Not  cougar.  He 
eat  part,  too — mebbe  tek  it  off  an'  cover  it  till  'nother 
time.  Not  wolf.  He  leave  bones,  anyhow.  Some- 
t'ing else.  I  scared ;  Haney  scared,  too.  Sheep  scared. 
Dey  no  want  to  go  near,  any  more.  Speerit  t'ing,  I 
t'ink;  bad  speerit." 

"Come  on,"  quoth  Chet;  and  he  and  Phil  rather 
skeptically  rode  over. 

They  reached  the  dead  pine,  and  proceeded  on  a 
straight  line  behind  it.  Both  pines  and  cedars  grew 
here  thickly,  their  branches  extending  from  close  to 
the  ground,  so  that  the  depths  of  the  timber  had 
an  atmosphere  of  gloom  and  quiet  beyond  the  ordi- 
nary. 

"  I  see  the  place,"  said  Chet,  obliquing  slightly. 

It  was  about  fifty  yards  from  the  edge  of  the  sunny 
sage,  and  between  two  shaggy  cedars.  As  Hombre 
had   said,    four  hoofs  were   left,   and   the   sod   was 


A   COMEDY   AND    A   TRAGEDY       171 

bloody;  but  fragments  of  woolly  hide  also  were  scat- 
tered about,  and  a  few  splinters  of  bones.  Aside  from 
these,  there  was  no  refuse.  Whatever  had  seized 
the  sheep  had  evidently  devoured  it  all,  on  the 
spot ! 

"Aw,  jiminy!"  commented  Chet.  "I  don't  see 
what  could  eat  the  big  bones.  Even  a  bear  wouldn't 
do  that." 

The  two  boys  glanced  about  apprehensively,  search- 
ing the  dark-green  recesses.  Not  a  sound,  except  the 
baaing  of  Hombre's  sheep  far  across  the  sage,  could 
be  heard.  Branch  and  twig  were  motionless.  Peace 
— or  a  great  fear — brooded  over  the  timber. 

*'  And  I  don't  see  any  tracks,  except  where  the  sheep 
kicked,"  said  Phil.     "Look!     Pepper's  afraid!" 

For  Pepper,  beginning  to  graze,  with  lines  down, 
skirting  the  spot  drew  back  with  a  snort  of 
alarm. 

"  It's  the  blood,"  asserted  Chet. 

And  probably  it  was.  But  the  action  was 
ominous.  They  dismounted,  and  observed  the  ground 
closer. 

"  Somebody  else  has  been  here,  on  a  hawss,"  in- 
formed Phil,  sagely,  from  back  further  in  the  timber, 
where  he  was  searching. 

Chet  went  over. 

"  And  here's  more  blood,"  Phil  added. 

There  certainly  were  horse  tracks — and  blood  stains ; 
yes,  and  the  prints  of  a  booted  foot.  But  they  did  not 
enter  from  the  direction  of  the  sheep  camp;  they 
seemed  to  have  come  in  from  the  other  direction. 


172  THE   CIRCLE    K 

However,  as  the  two  boys,  now  upon  their  horses, 
riding  leisurely  in  a  final  circle  emerged  at  the  edge 
again  of  the  trees  which  held  a  grewsome  secret,  they 
simultaneously  exclaimed ;  and  Phil  added : 
*'  What's  the  matter  now,  I  wonder.'* 


CHAPTER  XIV 

BAD   NEWS    FROM    THE   BOX 

For  diagonally  down  the  opposite  slope,  spurring 
through  the  sage  and  taking  about  the  course  which 
they  themselves  had  taken  when  they  arrived  from 
the  other  camp,  galloped  a  horseman.  His  pace,  his 
seat  as  he  rode  with  loose  rein,  even  down  hill,  and 
let  the  horse  go,  his  forward-leaning  attitude  with  one 
hand  on  the  saddle-horn — everything  betokened  haste 
and  desperation. 

"Who  is  it?  "  demanded  Phil. 

"  I  don't  know.  He's  not  any  of  us.  He's  from 
some  other  camp,"  answered  Chet.    "  Come  on." 

And  together  they  also  raced,  at  a  free  gallop,  for 
the  Hombre  and  Haney  tent.  In  the  brush,  a  short 
distance  from  it,  Hombre  was  standing,  waiting.  The 
lone  rider  and  the  two  boys  reached  him  at  the  same 
moment 

The  stranger  was  a  young  man  of  twenty-eight  or 
thirty,  in  checked  blouse,  old  corduroys  and  broad- 
brimmed  leather-banded  hat.  He  sat  his  horse  (a 
woful  buckskin)  loosely,  and  while  he  was  large- 
framed  and  broad-shouldered  he  was  also  very  spare 
and  was  flat-chested.  As  he  drew  near  his  lips  were 
hard  set,  his  brown  eyes  were  curiously  glassy  as 
from  fatigue  and  excitement  combined,  and  while  his 
fair  complexion  was  considerably  browned,  over  each 

173 


174  THE   CIRCLE    K 

cheek-bone  a  spot  of  glowing  crimson  burned  through 
the  general  tan. 

"  Is  this  a  Circle  K  camp  ? "  he  demanded,  as 
breathless  as  his  horse. 

''  Yes." 

"  I'm  from  the  Box.  They  raided  our  camp  last 
night  and  killed  six  hundred  sheep." 

"They  did!" 

*'  Santa  Maria !  "  muttered  Hombre. 

"Who  was  it?" 

"What  time?" 

"How  many?" 

The  questions  assailed  him  thick  and  fast.  He 
coughed,  long  and  convulsively. 

"  Give  me  time,  boys,"  he  said,  recovering.  "  As 
to  who  they  were,  they  didn't  say.  How  many,  maybe 
half  a  dozen.    What  time,  about  two  o'clock." 

"  Santa  Maria ! "  Hombre  kept  muttering,  aghast. 

"  Was  it  your  camp  ?  "  asked  Chet. 

"  Mine  and  another  chap's.  We're  over  one  band.  I 
joined  the  outfit  only  last  week." 

"  How  they  keel  dem?  "  asked  Hombre.  "  Shoot? 
Club?" 

"  Both.  Mostly  club,  by  the  sound  and  looks. 
Ugh !  "  He  closed  his  eyes,  sickly,  and  reeled  in  the 
saddle.  "  I  never  want  to  be  in  a  fracas  like  that 
again.  Where  are  your  other  camps.  I'm  spreading 
the  word." 

"  There's  another  across  the  ridge,  south,"  said 
Chet.  "  Did  you  strike  a  camp  above  here,  where 
there's  a  herder  named  Gus  ?  " 


BAD    NEWS    FROM    THE    BOX        175 

"  Struck  a  camp.  Swede  herder.  Don't  know  his 
name.  Didn't  stop  to  ask.  Straight  over  that  ridge, 
south,  is  it — the  next  one  ?  " 

He  coughed  violently  again,  clutching  the  horn  of 
his  saddle;  but  he  lifted  his  horse's  head,  preparatory 
to  starting  on. 

"  You  stay  here,"  invited  Hombre,  sympathetically. 
'*  You  stay  an'  have  one  cup  coffee.  Boys,  dey  ride  on 
an'  tell  other  camps. 

But  the  young  man  shook  his  head.  All  exhausted 
that  he  was,  and  ill  besides,  he  was  determined. 

*'  Gratias,  senor,"  he  answered ;  and  with  a  laugH 
added,  to  Hombre's  astonishment  at  hearing  the  words. 
"I  sabe  some  Mexicano,  myself.  No,  thanks;  I'm 
only  a  trifle  tired,  and  I'll  see  this  thing  through.  But 
I'd  be  glad  to  have  the  boys  ride  with  me,  if  they  want 
to.    We  might  save  time  by  it." 

"  Come  on,  then,"  said  Chet,  as  customary  with  him. 
"  We'll  shore  do  it." 

"  We  shore  will,"  echoed  Phil. 

Leaving  Hombre  standing,  dazed  and  aghast  with 
the  news  from  the  other  side  of  the  range,  they  all 
galloped  away,  for  the  camp  of  Ford  and  Luis  the 
Calif  ornian. 

"Didn't  you  people  do  any  shooting?"  queried 
Chet,  of  the  Box  herder. 

The  young  man  was  riding  with  an  effort,  as  if  he 
felt  the  jar  of  the  saddle  through  every  muscle — rid- 
ing doggedly  and  uncomfortably,  as  tired  men  ride, 
and  the  spots  of  color  upon  his  cheek  bones  were  more 
brilliant,  or  else  his  face  was  paler. 


176  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"  Nothing  to  shoot  with.  No,  all  we  could  do  was 
to  take  to  the  brush.  The  boss  heard,  and  came  over 
at  a  run  from  his  camp,  and  he  did  some  shooting,  but 
he  was  too  late.  He  thinks  he  hit  one.  But,  oh  boys ! 
I  wouldn't  hear  those  sheep  and  lambs  slaughtered 
that  way  again  for  ten  thousand  dollars.  It  was 
awful.'*  He  coughed  and  coughed,  doubling  in  the 
saddle.  "  They  killed  six  hundred,  and  a  lot  more 
will  die." 

"  You're  out  here  for  your  health,  I  reckon,  aren't 
you  ?  "  queried  Chet,  shrewdly. 

"  Yes,  I'm  a  lunger,"  promptly  admitted  the  young 
man.     "What  are  you  two  doing?    Herding,  too?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Phil. 

"  Maybe  you  ought  not  to  ride  so  fast,"  proffered 
Chet.  "  We'll  slacken  up  any  time  you  say  so.  It's 
only  three  miles  across  to  the  next  camp." 

"  I'll  ride  as  fast  as  you  do,"  replied  the  man  grimly. 
"  I've  got  one  good  lung,  and  that's  enough  where 
there's  so  much  air." 

He  was  plucky,  was  this  high-colored,  broad-shoul- 
dered, caved-in  chap,  who  rode  wearily  but  rode  stub- 
bornly; and  not  to  affront  him  or  shame  his  spirit 
they  tried  not  to  notice  his  plight.  At  gallop,  trot, 
and  occasional  walk,  they  three  hastened  through  the 
sage,  to  spread  the  news  of  the  attack  on  the  Black 
Mesa  sheep  range. 

The  camp  of  Ford  and  Luis  was  right  in  the  midst 
of  a  broad  flat  of  sage  and  grease- wood,  with  a  streak 
of  lighter  green  through  the  middle,  showing  where  a 
boggy  spring  went  trickling  on.    The  sheep  w^ere  feed- 


BAD    NEWS    FROM    THE    BOX        177 

ing  a  half  mile  below  the  tent,  and  as  the  tent  flaps 
were  open  somebody  evidently  was  at  home 
there. 

It  was  Ford.  At  the  sound  of  the  horses'  hoofs  he 
peered  out,  and  standing  in  the  doorway  he  waited. 
Phil  waved;  he  w^aved  back. 

"  Come  in,'*'  greeted  Ford,  heartily,  as  they  drew 
up.  "  I  was  just  cooking  dinner."  He  glanced  sharply 
at  the  stranger,  and  his  eyes  opened  in  astonishment. 
He  stepped  forward  impulsively. 

"  That  looks  like  a  man  I  know,"  he  said.  "  If  it 
isn't  Billy  Adams  I'll  eat  my  hat !  In  the  name  of  the 
great  Eli,  Billy,  what  are  you  doing  out  here?" 

He  reached  up ;  they  shook  hands  hard. 

"  Same  thing  you  are.  Dexter.  Following  sheep 
around,"  answered  the  stranger.  "  I  didn't  know 
you  were  with  sheep.  Thought  you  were  punching 
cattle  somewhere." 

"  So  I  was,  Billy.  But  I'm  punching  sheep  now. 
Get  down  and  come  in,  all  of  you.  I'm  the  boss  cook, 
too.  I  can  cook  a  spud  till  it's  hot.  Why,  Billy,  I 
haven't  seen  you  since  I  played  opposite  you  in  the 
line  and  you  smeared  mud  all  over  my  face.  What 
sent  you  out  here,  anyway?    Love  of  sheep?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Adams,  laconically.  He  choked 
and  coughed.    '*  Bum  lungs.    Hear  'em?" 

"  He's  with  the  Box  outfit,  and  was  raided  last 
night,"  informed  Chet,  excitedly. 

"  Killed  six  hundred  sheep,  he  says,  and  more  will 
die,"  added  Phil. 

"  That  so,  Billy  ?  "  demanded  Ford,  suddenly  grave. 


178  THE   CIRCLE   K 

Mr.  Adams  nodded,  as  gravely. 

"  That's  so,"  he  assured.  "  We're  doing  a  Paul 
Revere  ride,  to  spread  the  news." 

"  Where  are  you  going  from  here?  " 

"  On  to  the  next  camp;  isn't  it?  "  and  he  looked  at 
the  boys. 

"  That's  the  cabin,"  said  Ford,  quickly.  "  But  look 
here,  Billy.  You  needn't  ride  all  that  distance.  You 
were  up  half  the  night,  too,  weren't  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Adams  smiled  oddly. 

"  Sleep  was  just  a  little  broken,  while  they  were 
killing  the  sheep,  Deck,"  he  said. 

"  You  let  the  boys  ride  on,  and  you  stay  here. 
There's  nothing  beyond  the  cabin.  They  can  say  what 
there  is  to  say  and  can  come  back  this  way.  Mr. 
Adams  and  I  played  football  against  each  other,"  he 
explained,  politely,  to  Phil  and  Chet.  "  He  played 
for  Yale  the  last  year  I  was  with  Harvard."  And  He 
turned  to  Mr.  Adams  again,  eyeing  him  quizzically, 
yet  anxiously.  "  You  didn't  have  any  bum  lung  then, 
Billy,  as  I  remember.  You  nearly  gave  me  two  or 
three,  though.'* 

"  Well,  I've  got  one  here  I'll  give  away,"  croaked 
"  Billy."  "  I've  peddled  it  all  over  New  Mexico  and 
Arizona,  and  now  I'm  trying  to  leave  it  with  the 
sheep." 

"  You'll  stay  with  me,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Can't,  Deck.  I'll  take  a  cup  of  coffee,  though. 
Haven't  had  breakfast  yet." 

"  Sure.  Get  down  and  come  in.  It's  ready,  I 
think." 


BAD    NEWS    FROM    THE    BOX         179 

"  Bring  a  cup  of  it  out,  Deck,"  pleaded  Mr.  Adams. 
"  This  horse  is  too  high  to  cHmb  again." 

Ford  brought  out  a  tin  cup  of  steaming  coffee. 

"  Want  some,  boys  ?  "  he  asked. 

But  Chet  shook  his  head. 

*'  We  can  get  some  at  the  cabin." 

Mr.  Adams  finished  his  draught  with  a  big  sigh  of 
pleasure,  and  handed  down  the  cup. 

"  That  will  hold  me  together,  all  right,"  he  said. 
"  Go  ahead,  boys ;  I'm  with  you.  See  you  later,  old 
man.  We'll  discuss  blackfaces  and  Shropshires  and 
lambs  and  other  woolly  topics." 

Ford  laughed,  and  nodded.  When  Phil  glanced 
back,  he  had  gone  into  the  tent  again,  to  resume  his 
dinner-getting. 

"He  was  a  Harvard  star;  played  end,"  remarked 
Mr.  Adams.  "  That's  queer — our  meeting  out  on  the 
sheep  range.     But  it's  a  small  world." 

In  response  to  Chet's  and  Phil's  gesture  Luis  the 
Californian,  standing  motionless  and  observant,  with 
crimson  shirt  and  peaked  hat  and  staff,  his  dog  beside 
him,  waved  to  them  briefly  as  they  cantered  past. 
From  the  flat  they  dipped  into  a  deep  gulch,  traversed 
for  a  little  way  its  bottom,  through  which  rushed  a 
foaming,  leaping  stream  bordered  with  willows,  and 
striking  a  trail  crossed  by  means  of  a  pole  and  dirt 
burro  bridge,  low  but  substantial. 

The  trail  skirted  the  willows  for  a  considerable  dis- 
tance, before  climbing  the  hills  which  lay  beyond. 
Chet  was  in  the  lead,  Phil  followed,  and  Mr.  Adams 
brought  up  the  rear,  as  in  single  file  they  threaded  th^ 


i8o  THE   CIRCLE    K 

path,  between  the  willows  on  the  left  and  the  thinly 
growing  pines  and  bushes  on  the  right.  The  dashing 
current  made  too  much  noise  for  conversation. 

The  trail  turned;  Chet's  horse  pricked  his  ears,  and 
suddenly  Chet  was  face  to  face  with  another  rider. 
The  horse's  noses  almost  touched  before  rein  could  be 
drawn. 

With  a  muttered  oath  the  other  rider  instantly 
swerved  his  mount  and  spurred  it  with  a  bound  into 
the  brush.  He  was  the  man  with  the  limp !  He  was 
leading  a  second  horse,  saddled  and  bridled — the  sad- 
dle messily  daubed  with  a  dark  stain. 

"  Here,  you ! "  Chet  exclaimed.  His  voice  rose 
shrill.  "Stop  that  man,  somebody!"  he  cried;  for 
bolting  on  recklessly  the  man  with  the  limp  had  forged 
past  Phil  also,  as  if  bent  upon  escape. 

Just  why  he  should  be  stopped,  Phil  did  not  know. 
And,  anyway,  he  was  too  far  along,  now,  to  be  headed 
off,  except  by  Mr.  Adams. 

The  horses,  urged  into  the  branches  at  a  tangent 
with  the  trail,  recoiled  and  would  have  turned  back. 
Asking  not  a  question  Mr.  Adams  unhesitatingly  flung 
himself  sideways,  and  half  leaving  his  own  saddle, 
like  a  football  tackier  grappled  the  man  with  the  limp 
around  the  waist.  It  was  a  plucky  and  daring  thing 
to  do;  for  the  man  with  the  limp,  swearing  fiercely, 
with  a  dig  of  the  spurs  forcing  his  horse  onward 
jerked  loose  roughly  from  the  grasp,  went  crashing 
off,  led  horse  and  all,  through  the  timber,  and  poor 
Mr.  Adams  plunged  to  the  ground. 

Chet  and  Phil  wheeled  their  mounts. 


"MR.    ADAMS    GRAPPLED    THE    MAN    WITH    THE    LIMP. 


BAD    NEWS    FROM   THE    BOX        i8i 

"Hurt?"  they  both  asked,  alarmed. 

"  No.  But  he  got  away  from  me,"  panted  Mr. 
Adams,  scrambHng  up.  "  Who  was  he  ?  What  did 
you  want  of  him?  " 

"  I  didn't  want  him.  It  was  Chet  who  said  to 
stop  him/'  defended  Phil. 

"  I  had  a  hunch,  is  all,"  confessed  Chet, 

"Why?" 

Qiet  shook  his  head. 

"  Don't  know — but  I  had  a  hunch  that  we  ought  to 
stop  him.     Something  told  me  so." 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Adams.  "  Whoa. 
Lucky  this  buckskin  didn't  run." 

"  Yes,  we  know  him,"  answered  Chet.  "  He's  a 
rustler  and  kidnapper  and  murderer,  and  everything 
else.  He's  always  making  trouble.  Wonder  what  he 
was  doing  with  that  led  hawss." 

"  Stop  him  whenever  you  see  him,  on  general  prin- 
ciples, eh  ?  "  queried  Mr.  Adams.  He  climbed  aboard 
his  horse,  and  winced.  "  Ouch !  Must  have  skinned 
my  shin  when  I  fell." 

"  You  shorely  didn't  wait  to  ask  questions,"  vouch- 
safed Chet,  admiringly.  "  When  I  yelled,  you 
jumped." 

"  Well,  there  wasn't  much  time  to  argue  in,"  com- 
mented Mr.  Adams,  with  a  smile  on  his  face  so  white 
and  red.     "  What'll  we  do — give  him  a  chase  ?  " 

"  Naw,"  said  Chet.  "  Let  him  go.  We  don't  want 
him,  after  all." 

"Another  hunch,  what?"  demanded  Mr.  Adams, 
panting  from  his  climb  into  the  saddle  and  from  his 


i82  THE  .  CIRCLE    K 

previous  exertion.  "  When  we  see  him  again  we'll 
tell  him  that  it  was  all  a  mistake  and  that  the  wires 
were  crossed." 

Chet  flushed,  and  answered  sturdily: 

"  When  we  see  him  again  we'll  want  him  worse 
than  ever." 

And  Chet  spoke  truth. 

They  resumed  the  trail.  It  branched;  and  piloted 
by  Chet,  taking  the  right-hand  fork,  which  left  the 
creek,  they  wound  up  the  slope  of  a  timbered  hill 
where  red  spruces  grew  low  and  thick. 

"  He  was  riding  the  other  fork,  along  the  creek," 
called  back  Chet — referring  to  the  man  with  the 
limp. 

For  no  fresh  hoof-marks  dinted  the  mold  of  this 
bridle-path. 

They  topped  the  hill,  and  rounding  over,  were  in 
sight  of  the  head-quarters  cabin,  located  in  the  sage 
of  a  flat,  down  below,  beside  that  same  stream  which 
has  been  crossed  higher  up. 

"  Somebody's  there,  all  right,"  announced  Chet. 
Smoke  was  issuing  from  the  stone  chimney.  "Jess, 
I  guess." 

The  burros  all  were  standing  before  the  cabin,  at 
a  respectful  distance,  in  a  semicircle,  nosing  and 
nipping  and  waiting  as  if  the  smoke  had  been  an  in- 
vitation to  them.  But  the  cabin  door  was  shut,  and  it 
did  not  open  as  the  riders  approached.  This  was 
odd,  for  Phil,  at  least,  confidently  anticipated  having 
it  swing  and  the  wrinkled  countenance  of  Old  Jess 
peer  out,  or  else  the  grizzled,  goateed  visage  of  the 


BAD    NEWS    FROM   THE   BOX        183 

taller  veteran  Mr.  Simms.  But  the  cabin  remained 
lifeless,  safe  for  the  slowly  wafting  smoke. 

"  Nobody  at  home,  after  all,  I  reckon,'*  said  Chet, 
as  they  dismounted  before  the  door.  "  We'll  get 
dinner  anyway.  They  must  have  killed  a  sheep  this 
morning.  See  the  trail  where  it  dripped?  We'll  eat 
some  of  their  mutton  for  'em.'* 

In  the  dust  before  the  threshold  were  gouts  of 
blood,  as  from  a  fresh  carcass.  But  this  was  not  un- 
usual; Phil  had  grown  accustomed  to  seeing  car- 
casses and  the  traces  of  carcasses,  in  shape  of  pelts 
and  blood  and  refuse.  The  sheep  range  was  not  in 
every  way  a  pleasant  place. 

Chet  stepped  confidently  to  the  latch  and  lifting  it 
pushed.  The  door  yielded  a  few  inches,  and  stuck; 
and  although  he  put  his  knee  to  it  he  could  not  budge 
it  further. 

"  It's  stuck,"  he  complained.  "  There's  something 
against  it." 


CHAPTER    XV 

THE  sheepman's  SHOT 

Phil  left  his  horse,  to  help,  while  Mr.  Adams, 
standing  beside  his,  looked  wearily  on. 

Chet  rapped;  then  he  pounded.  There  was  no  re- 
sponse, by  movement  nor  sound,  and  the  door  would 
not  yield  further  than  the  mere  crack. 

"I  can  get  in  the  window,"  said  Chet;  "if  it's 
open." 

The  window,  square  and  swinging  inward  on  hinges, 
was  in  the  end  of  the  cabin.  Chet  stumped  around, 
and  called  back: 

**  It's  open." 

Phil  could  hear  him  grunt  as  he  wriggled  through. 
He  could  hear  his  footsteps  within — and  suddenly 
his  voice  called  sharply: 

"  Somebody's  lying  across  the  door ;  that's  what's 
the  matter?" 

He  panted  as  if  dragging  at  a  heavy  object.  But 
Phil  did  not  wait.  As  Mr.  Adams  exclaimed  behind 
him  he  hastened  around  to  the  window  and  jammed 
through.  A  great  fear  was  in  his  heart.  Tragedy 
had  occurred. 

The  interior  was  dusky.  He  could  barely  distin- 
guish Chet  bending  over  and  hauling,  at  the  doorway. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  asked,  his  voice  keen  with  anx- 
iety, as  he  sprang  across  to  help. 

184 


THE    SHEEPMAN'S    SHOT  185 

"Don't  know,"  panted  Chet.  "Don't  think  it's 
dad  or  Jess,  though." 

Phil  felt,  and  grasped  the  clothing.  The  body 
within  was  lax  and  limp  and  oddly  heavy. 

"  Drag  it  away  far  enough  so  we  can  open  the  door 
and  see,"  panted  Chet.  "  I  hope  it  isn't  dad  or  Jess," 
he  faltered,  a  break  in  his  voice. 

"  I  should  say  so,"  said  Phil,  thickly. 

As  together  they  moved  the  heavy  body,  the  door 
was  pressed  back  and  Mr.  Adams  squeezed  violently 
through. 

**  Who  is  it?"  he  demanded.  "Somebody  hurt? 
Dead?" 

Now  there  was  more  light.  All  together  they 
peered  over,  at  the  face,  which  had  turned  to  one  side 
as  the  head  rolled.  Both  Chet  and  Phil  uttered  the 
one  exclamation. 

"  The  man  with  the  one  eye !  " 

In  the  exclamation  was  much  relief.  There  was  no 
mistaking  that  cruel  face,  with  the  sunken,  empty 
eye-socket  accentuated  now  by  the  waxy  white  skin 
surrounding  it.  Phil  gingerly  touched  the  face,  with 
the  back  of  a  finger.    It  was  cold. 

"  Gone,  isn't  he  ?  "  asked  Chet. 

Phil  nodded. 

"  No.  Get  him  on  a  bunk.  Maybe  he  isn't," 
urged  Mr.  Adams.  "  Work  quick,  boys.  Take  his 
legs.     I'll  take  his  shoulders." 

As  they  lifted,  the  body  doubled  between  them 

"  He's  dead,"  grunted  Chet.  "  If  he  isn't  he  ought 
to  be.     What  do  you  want  to  save  him  for?" 


1 86  THE   CIRCLE    K 

"Who  is  he?" 

"  Another  regular  outlaw  and  cattle  rustler  and  kid- 
napper and  murderer  and  everything  else,"  declared 
Chet,  giving  the  man  with  the  one  eye  his  character. 

"  But  we  ought  to  save  him,  if  we  can,  boys," 
urged  Mr.  Adams.  "  He's  a  fellow  human-being. 
Lay  him  down  gently,  now.  There.  Open  that  door 
wide.  Phew — what  a  hole!  Shot  through  the  back, 
and  bullet  came  out  the  ribs."  He  straightened,  lifted 
an  arm  and  let  it  drop.  It  was  leaden.  "  Yes,  he's 
dead.     Where  did  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  He  and  that  man  we  met  this  morning,  and  an- 
other as  mean  stole  cattle  on  our  range,  and  they 
had  a  girl  they'd  kidnapped,"  explained  Chet.  "  And 
one  shot  dad  plumb  through  the  shoulder,  out  in  the 
timber.  They  roped  Phil,  too;  but  we  chased  'em, 
and  killed  the  man  with  the  frozen  smile  and  got 
back  Phil  and  got  the  girl.     Didn't  we,  Phil  ?  " 

"And  last  summer  we  met  them  again,  down  in 
New  Mexico,  and  had  another  fracas.  They  killed 
the  bristly  man,  who  was  their  pal  and  tried  to  help 
Cherry " 

"Who  was  Cherry?"  interrupted  Mr.  Adams. 

"  She's  the  girl.  They'd  stolen  her  from  her  tent 
during  a  stampede  of  the  cattle.  And  we  chased 
them." 

"  That  was  when  we  met  the  Rangers  and  had  the 
fight  with  the  Indians,"  added  Chet.  "  This  dead  man 
and  the  man  with  the  limp  got  away,  but  we  found 
Cherry,  all  right,  and  the  sheriff  and  Charley  the  Ute 
trailed  'em  and  captured  'em.     The  man  with  the 


THE    SHEEPMAN'S    SHOT  187 

limp  swore  against  his  partner,  and  they  let  him  go 
and  his  partner  was  sent  to  the  penitentiary,  and  then 
he  escaped.  And  the  other  day  this  man  with  the 
limp  came  riding  across  the  range  where  we  were, 
and  we  met  him  again  this  morning." 

"  What  was  the  other  fellow  doing  in  this  cabin, 
then?    Whom  did  you  expect  to  find  here?" 

"  Dad  and  Old  Jess." 

"  His  father  is  Mr.  Simms,  who  owns  the  Circle 
K  sheep,  and  Old  Jess  is  camp  tender,"  explained 
Phil. 

"  Humph,"  mused  Mr.  Adams.  His  cheeks  were 
still  vividly  crimson,  as  from  fever,  but  he  seemed  too 
interested  to  be  weak.     "Where  are  they,  then?" 

"  How  did  he  get  here?  "  prompted  Phil,  from  the 
threshold.     "  Don't  see  any  tracks." 

They  laid  a  blanket  over  the  face  and  form  of  the 
man  with  the  one  eye,  and  went  outside  to  look. 

"  Here's  more  blood,"  spoke  Chet.  "  But  maybe 
it's  where  a  sheep  was  butchered." 

"Are  those  some  of  your  people,  coming?'*  quer- 
ied Mr.  Adams. 

All  looked;  and  Chet  declared  instantly: 

"  Hurrah !  It's  dad  and  Jess,  all  right.  They've 
got  somebody  with  them.    One's  your  boss,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Shouldn't  wonder." 

Five  horsemen  were  riding  down  from  the  sagy 
slope  across  the  stream.  Phil  easily  recognized  the 
tall  figure  of  Mr.  Simms,  and  the  shorter  and  more 
stooped  figure  of  Old  Jess;  he  also  recognized  the 
figure  of  the  bullet-headed,  derby-hatted  sheepman  of 


i88  THE   CIRCLE    K 

the  Box  outfit;  tHe  other  figures  appeared  as  somewhat 
familiar,  but  he  was  not  able  quite  to  place  them  in  his 
memory — until  as  the  quintette  was  just  about  to  cross 
the  creek,  on  the  rude  bridge  below  the  cabin,  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"I  know!    One's  the  sheriff." 

"  And  that's  Charley  Pow-wow  with  him,"  asserted 
Chet. 

And  the  sheriff  of  Blanco  county  it  was — his  square 
shoulders,  his  ruddy  face,  his  sandy  moustache,  his 
general  solidity,  all  unaltered.  Phil  recalled  him  as 
the  very  embodiment  of  quiet  bravery.  As  with  his 
four  companions  he  drew  up  at  the  cabin  he  nodded. 

"  Hello,  boys,"  he  said.     "  What's  in  there?  " 

"  Dead  man,"  quoth  Mr.  Adams,  shortly. 

With  a  muttered  exclamation  the  sheepman  vaulted 
from  the  saddle  and  was  first  into  the  cabin,  followed 
by  the  sheriff.  He  strode  with  unusual  abruptness  to 
the  bunk,  and  jerked  off  the  blanket,  uncovering  the 
staring  face  beneath. 

"  I  got  you,"  addressed  the  sheepman,  vehemently. 
He  shook  his  clenched  fist  in  the  waxen  face.  "  You're 
the  man.  You  come  killin'  my  sheep,  but  you've  paid 
for  'em.  All  I  wanted  was  to  tell  you  so,  and  you've 
sneaked  away  on  me.  But  you've  paid.  Bah !  "  and 
he  flung  the  blanket  over  again.  He  straightened  and 
raised  his  right  arm  high.  "  The  wages  of  sin  is 
death,"  he  said,  solemnly. 

"  All  right,  Lem,"  soothed  the  sheriff.  "  Let  him 
alone.    He  can't  talk  back.    Come  on  outside,  boys." 

Phil  and  Chet  had  crowded  in  together,  to  watch 


THE    SHEEPMAN'S    SHOT  189 

and  listen;  the  others  were  at  the  threshold.  Now  all 
collected  outside,  in  the  sunshine  and  the  sage  scent. 

"Where  was  he?  Still  in  the  bunk?"  asked  Mr. 
Simms,  of  Chet.  He  looked  tired,  did  Mr.  Simms, 
and  so  did  Old  Jess, 

"  No.  He  was  lying  across  the  door,  inside,  and  we 
had  to  climb  in  the  window." 

"Dead?" 

Chet  nodded. 

**  Yes.  We  put  him  in  the  bunk.  How  did  he  get  in 
the  cabin?  Did  you  know  about  it,  dad?  Where've 
you  been  ?  " 

"That's  the  fellow  I  shot,"  was  saying  the  sheep- 
man, to  Mr.  Adams.  "  I've  been  trailing  him  ever 
since  you  left.     Trailed  him  clear  from  camp." 

"  All  in  good  time,"  answered  Mr.  Simms,  to  Chet, 
smiling  grimly.  "  We  found  this  fellow  at  the  edge  of 
the  timber,  yonder,  about  all  in,  early  this  morning. 
Somebody's  been  hanging  about,  by  the  tracks,  making 
camp  and  killing  sheep,  and  when  I  rode  out  at  day- 
break for  a  little  reconnoitre,  I  came  on  him.  Jess 
and  I  fetched  him  in,  and  put  him  to  bed;  he  didn't 
have  much  blood  left  to  bleed.  Then  we  set  out  to 
back-track  him,  to  see  where  he'd  come  from,  and 
find  his  partner,  if  we  could,  and  we  met  the  sheriff 
and  this  other  man,  heading  toward  us.  So  we  turned 
about,  and  I  guess  in  our  absence  the  fellow  tried  to 
escape  by  the  door,  and  couldn't  make  it." 

Old  Jess  grunted. 

"  Pity  it  warn't  his  pardner,"  he  said,  "  He's  the 
wust  of  the  two." 


I90  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"  We  met  him,''  exclaimed  Phil,  quickly.  ''  We 
met  him  and  Chet  wanted  to  stop  him,  but  he  got 
away.    He  had  a  led  horse." 

"Where?  This  morning?"  queried  Mr.  Simms. 
"  Must  have  been  his  pardner's  hawss." 

"  On  our  way  over;  in  the  trail  down  by  the  creek." 

"  He  was  in  a  mighty  big  hurry,  too,"  declared 
Chet.  "  This  man  grabbed  him,  but  he  broke  loose." 
By  "  this  man  "  he  indicated  Mr.  Adams.  "  And  we 
saw  where  somebody  had  killed  one  of  Haney's  and 
Hombre's  wethers  up  in  the  timber." 

The  sheriff,  biting  off  the  end  of  a  cigar,  regarded 
him  keenly.  He  and  Mr.  Simms  exchanged  satisfied 
glances. 

"  Bueno,"  remarked  the  sheriff,  scratching  a  match. 
"  We'll  take  that  trail,  I  reckon;  hey,  Charley?  " 

Charley,  the  fifth  member  of  the  squad,  was  a  dark- 
faced  young  man,  with  piercing  black  eyes,  flat  nose 
and  large  mouth.  By  these  and  his  unmistakable 
swarthy  skin  he  would  readily  be  picked  out  for  the 
Indian  that  he  was.  He  was  son  of  Chief  Billy,  head 
of  the  Southern  Utes. 

Charley  wore  moccasins,  ragged  overalls  sagging 
about  his  hips,  a  dingy  calico  shirt,  and  sombrero 
with  a  bead  band. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered.  He  already  had  nodded  at 
the  two  boys.  They  had  met  him  before.  A 
boss  trailer  was  Charley  Pow-wow — and  was  a  Car- 
lisle school  graduate,  also.  But  few  would  guess 
that. 

"  The  sheriff  thinks  these  two  men  have  been  hiding 


THE    SHEEPMAN'S    SHOT  191 

out  in  the  hills  ever  since  the  second  one  escaped  from 
prison,"  explained  Mr.  Simms.  "  That  acounts  for  the 
sheep  remains,  and  for  other  things  besides." 

"  And  I've  accounted  for  one  of  them,"  growled  the 
Box  foreman.  "  But  the  five  hundred  dollars  don't 
pay  for  six  hundred  sheep.  I  get  that  reward,  though 
— don't  I  ?  "  he  appealed,  to  the  sheriff.  "  I  can  show 
his  trail,  from  my  camp  straight  to  where  he  was 
picked  up." 

"  I  reckon,"  assured  the  sheriff. 

"Aw,  and  he  was  right  there  by  Haney^s  tent!" 
said  Chet,  to  Phil.  "  And  they  thought  it  was  a 
carcajou.  They'll  be  mad.  He  fooled  'em  on 
purpose." 

"  We'll  have  dinner  outside,  here,"  proposed  Mr. 
Simms.  **  Then  we  can  ride  over  and  look  at  that  Box 
camp." 

But  there  were  matters  to  be  attended  to  inside  the 
cabin,  also.  And  while  Old  Jess  busied  himself  at 
the  stove,  Mr.  Simms  and  the  sheriff  hovered  over  the 
bunk — until,  while  the  rest  pretended  not  to  see,  they 
bore  out  an  object  wrapped  in  a  quilt,  to  carry  it  off 
into  the  willows  by  the  creek,  the  sheepman  following 
with  a  spade.  After  that  the  air  seemed  clearer,  Old 
Jess,  at  the  stove,  sang  to  himself  in  cracked  voice, 
and  the  two  boys  chased  away  the  funny  burros. 
But  dinner  was  eaten,  as  had  been  suggested,  out  of 
doors,  in  the  sweet  open. 

The  sun  was  directly  overhead  and  shining  hotly 
down  when  they  started:  the  two  boys;  Mr.  Simms, 
veteran  of  the  plains  and  hills,  ex-cowman  of  the  Bar 


192  THE   CIRCLE    K 

B,  now  owner  of  the  Circle  K  sheep;  Old  Jess 
Simpson,  battered  cow-puncher  of  the  Texas  Trail 
and  of  other  days  when  the  cattle  business  was  in  its 
glory,  but  now  reduced,  he,  to  cooking  and  to  tending 
sheep  camps ;  Sheriff  Ben,  of  Blanco  county,  who  was 
the  Law  and  as  such  arrested  men  without  help  and 
without  drawing  weapon;  Charley  the  Ute,  swarthy, 
silent,  keen  and  sometimes  the  white  man  and  some- 
times the  red ;  Mr.  Adams,  the  "  lunger,"  Yale  football 
man  and  herder;  and  the  bullet-headed,  derby-hatted, 
fighting  foreman  of  the  Box. 

He  was  riding  with  the  two  boys. 

"  It's  this  way,"  he  explained.  "  Somebody  set 
those  raiders  on,  for  hire.  I  don't  believe  none  of 
them  were  cowboys.  That  dead  man  was  helped 
to  escape  from  the  penitentiary  for  a  purpose,  so  that 
he  could  do  dirty  work.  That  was  the  price  of  his 
escape.  But  he's  found  out  there  was  another  price 
— an'  he's  got  it.  Yes;  I've  lived  a  little  bit  every- 
where— north,  south,  east  an'  west;  an'  I  tell  you 
this,  an'  the  sheriff  there  will  back  me  up:  the  man 
who  buys,  pays."" 

*'  It's  the  Law,"  spoke  the  sheriff.  *'  Nobody  can 
beat  the  Law.     The  man  who  buys,  pays." 

"  An'  the  wages  of  sin  is  death,"  continued  the 
sheepman,  as  solemnly  as  before.  He  spat.  "  Not 
always  that  death  back  there  in  the  cabin — but  misery 
just  the  same.  When  a  man  looses  all  his  self-respect 
an'  better  feelings,  an'  he  has  no  conscience,  he  is 
deader  than  if  he  were  lying  cold." 

*'  Where  did  you  meet  up  with  that  lame  fellow  ?  " 


THE    SHEEPMAN'S    SHOT  193 

asked  the  sheriff,  as  they  rode  along,  down  the  further 
slope  of  the  hill  and  to  the  creek  there. 

"  Right  ahead,"  answered  Chet.  "  Just  beyond 
where  the  other  trail  comes  in.  He  jumped  off  into  the 
brush,  but  I  guess  he  went  on." 

"  Here's  the  spot,"  presently  informed  Phil.  "  See 
the  tracks?" 

Charley  the  Ute,  as  if  apprized  by  Mr.  Adams,  al- 
ready had  veered  out;  and  with  "  I  reckon  we'll  ride 
ahead,  then,  and  follow  them  a  ways,"  the  sheriff 
spurred  around  the  little  column  and  trotted  on,  out 
of  sight.  Nor  did  he  reappear  and  join  the  squad, 
for  where  the  riders  turned  off  to  climb  the  other  slope 
the  tracks  showed  that  he  and  Charley  had  continued 
along  the  creek.  And  that  was  the  last  seen  of  the 
sheriff  by  the  Circle  K  for  two  months. 

As  the  party  passed  the  camp  of  Ford  and  Luis 
Mr.  Simms  waved  his  arm  to  the  former,  who  came 
after  them,  horseback. 

*'  Going  over  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Simms,  briefly;  and  Ford  fell  in. 

Obliquing  from  the  camp  here,  they  took  a  short  cut 
over  the  hills,  riding  steadily,  until  Mr.  Adams  re- 
marked : 

**  Across  that  next  ridge,  and  weVe  there,  aren't 
we?" 

Old  Jess  nodded. 

"  I  reckon,"  he  said,  laconically. 

"  You  can  hear  those  ewes  an'  lambs  bawlin'  clear 
here,"  commented  the  Box  foreman,  as  they  topped 
that  ridge.     "  Now,  boys,"  he  added,  "  Isn't  that  a 


194  THE    CIRCLE    K 

pity?  Ain't  that  a  dirty  shame,  though?  Look  at 
'em!" 

A  quarter  of  a  mile,  down  below  could  be  descried 
a  herder's  tent  beside  a  small  bunch  of  aspens.  Several 
men  were  moving  about,  among  sheep  collected  ap- 
parently on  the  bedding-ground  and  around  it.  Up- 
floated  from  the  scene  a  high,  strident  bleating — so 
singularly  mournful,  and  agonized,  and  appealing, 
that  it  was  like  no  bleating  which  Phil  had  yet  en- 
countered. He  had  heard  the  happy,  gossipy  bleating 
of  the  evening  drive,  the  querulous  inquiring  bleat  of 
storm  and  weariness,  the  chattering,  calling  bleat  of 
the  bedding-ground,  and  even  the  frantic  bleat  of  sud- 
den fright  when  the  coyote  charged ;  but  this  plaintive, 
persistent,  high-pitched  bleating  which  now  welled 
as  they  approached  had  in  it  a  new  note. 

"  There ! "  quoth  the  Box  foreman,  with  sweep  of 
hand,  and  reining  in.  "  That's  what  was  done  to  my 
sheep." 

The  scene  was  piteous,  heart-rending.  Great  piles 
of  stained  sheep  carcasses,  old  animals  and  young,  had 
been  made,  here  and  there,  and  upon  the  bloody  bed- 
ding-ground and  amidst  the  sage,  trampled  and  red,  of 
the  out-skirts,  were  standing  ewes  and  lambs,  calling, 
staring,  smelling,  calling  again,  and  refusing  to  leave. 
They  seemed  dazed.  Several  herders  were  moving 
among  them,  urging  them  away.  One  of  the  herders 
was  Haney.  A  number  of  the  animals  had  been  in- 
jured ;  they  hobbled  painfully  on  three  legs,  or  dragged 
hind  quarters,  or  showed  bruised  heads  and  gashed 
bodies.     But  the  worst  was  the  bleating  of  babyless 


THE    SHEEPMAN'S    SHOT  195 

mother  and  motherless  babe.  Several  of  the  lambs 
were  new  ones,  and  already  they  had  sunk  upon  their 
weak  little  legs,  calling  faintly  but  everlastingly  for 
nourishment.  Ewes  nosed  them,  but  drew  back,  re- 
fusing to  give  them  a  drink  as  they  frantically  strug- 
gled to  their  feet  again. 

Phil  checked  an  exclamation;  words  seemed  use- 
less,    diet  must  have  felt  the  same. 

**  That  sure  is  tough,"  remarked  Mr.  Simms, 
soberly.    "  Phew !    Listen  to  those  voices !  " 

"  If  every  cowman  in  the  country  could  see  this, 
George,  it  would  put  an  end  to  raidin',"  said  Old  Jess. 

One  of  the  workers  paused,  and  wiped  his  brow  with 
a  bandanna  handkerchief. 

"  You're  correct,"  he  proffered.  "  Two  wrongs 
don't  make  a  right.  And  killin'  sheep  because  the  law 
doesn't  keep  'em  off  is  no  way  to  settle  the  business. 
And  the  simple  killin'  ain't  the  worst.  Look  at  those 
lambs.  Half  of  them  will  die;  they're  too  young  to 
eat  grass  and  they'll  starve."  He  proceeded  about  his 
work. 

Another  visitor  was  in  sight,  for  obliquing  down 
the  slope  to  the  north,  his  horse  picking  quick  but 
careful  way  through  the  brush,  approached  a  man,  rid- 
ing. He  was  a  little  man,  in  ordinary  clothes,  even  to 
collar  and  tie  and  shoes;  but  he  sat  his  saddle  lightly 
and  held  his  bridle  hand  high,  like  a  practiced  horse- 
man. 

"  There's  the  sheriff,  now,"  said  Old  Jess. 

Everybody  had  stopped  work,  and  was  waiting. 
The  new  arrival  was  not  the  sheriff  of  Blanco  county ; 


196  THE    CIRCLE    K 

he  was  much  smaller,  with  pudgy  round  face,  as  ex- 
pressionless as  a  doll's — tanned,  however,  to  brick- 
red,  from  amidst  which  looked  out  a  pair  of  light  blue 
eyes ;  and  they  looked  out  very  steadily  and  very  pene- 
tratingly. 

He  pulled  up,  and  surveyed  the  men  and  the  scene. 

"  Howdy,  gentlemen,"  he  said.  "  Hello,  Lem. 
Well,  they  threw  sheep  around  right  careless,  didn't 
they.'*  And  he  continued  to  survey.  He  removed 
his  flat-brimmed,  drab  hat,  and  scratched  his  nose  with 
it,  as  if  thoughtful.  His  hair  was  as  red  as  Haney's, 
but  had  been  clipped  short,  to  bristles. 

**  Some,"  answered  the  Box  foreman,  crisply. 

The  new-comer  cast  a  leg  across  the  horn,  to  sit  side- 
saddle. 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  he  invited. 

*'  There  isn't  much  to  tell,"  asserted  the  Box  fore- 
man. "  They  rode  this  camp  down  about  midnight, 
five  or  six  of  'em,  an'  drove  the  herders  into  the 
brush ;  nobody  but  they  had  any  guns.  Then  they  set 
about  clubbin'  an'  shootin'  sheep — till  I  heard  the 
racket.  My  camp's  across  the  ridge.  /  had  a  gun, 
an'  I  come  shootin'.  That  was  more'n  they  bargained 
for,  an'  out  they  skipped,  but  I  got  one.  They  clipped 
me  through  the  ear — see?"  And  he  turned  to  show 
a  tear  in  the  upper  lobe  of  his  left  ear.  "  An'  I  got 
the  man  that  did  it.  He'll  never  kill  another  sheep." 
The  foreman's  voice  rose  savagely.  "  No,  he'll  never 
kill  another  sheep,"  and  he  glared  about  him,  with  his 
small  head  on  his  long  neck,  as  if  challenging  dis- 
pute. 


THE    SHEEPMAN'S    SHOT  197 

"Who  was  it?"  queried  the  sheriff. 

"Ask  them.  They  know  more  about  him  than  I 
do,"  directed  the  Box  foreman. 

The  sheriff  gazed  inquiringly  at  the  Circle  K  group. 

"  Well,"  he  asked,  of  Mr.  Simms,  "  what  do  you 
know  about  him,  and  where  is  he  ?  " 

"  He's  not  anybody,  now,"  replied  Mr.  Simms. 
"  He  zvas  that  one-eyed  fellow  who  escaped  from  the 
penitentiary.  He's  got  a  history  too  long  for  telling, 
here — and  he's  out  of  the  way  at  last.  We  found  him 
near  our  central  cabin  early  this  morning,  about 
dead  from  this  man's  shot,  and  before  coming  over 
here  we  put  him  under  the  ground  to  wait  for  the 
coroner." 

"  Bueno,"  approved  the  sheriff  of  Rico  county.  He 
rolled  a  brown-paper  cigarette,  and  lighted  it. 
"  Reckon  you'll  apply  for  that  five  hundred  dollars, 
Lem?'^ 

"  I  shorely  will,"  declared  the  sheepman.  "  But 
five  thousand  wouldn't  hardly  pay  me  for  the  dam- 
age." 

"  Maybe  not."  The  sheriff  of  Rico  county  glanced 
about.  "  Didn't  recognize  any  of  the  rest  of  the  gang, 
did  you?" 

"  These  boys  and  Adams  think  they  met  one." 

"  How  was  that?  "    The  sheriff  looked  at  Phil. 

"  His  name  is  Joe ;  he's  a  lame  man,  and  he  and  this 
man  with  the  one  eye  were  pardners." 

"  I  remember,"  nodded  the  sheriff.  "  Turned  state's 
evidence  at  the  trial." 

"  We  met  him  this  morning  when  we  were  riding 


198  THE   CIRCLE    K 

over  to  the  cabin,  and  Chet  yelled  to  stop  him,  but  he 
went  around  us,  in  the  brush." 

"  What  made  you  want  to  stop  him  ?  " 

"  I  just  had  a  hunch,"  said  Chet,  sheepishly.  "  But 
it  was  a  right  hunch,  anyway.  He  was  leading  an  extra 
hawss,  saddled." 

"  You  said  you  had  another  hunch  to  let  him  go, 
after  he  got  away,"  reminded  Phil,  slyly. 

Chet  blushed,  and  grinned  acknowledgment. 

"  Which  way  did  he  go,  then  ? "  persisted  the 
sheriff. 

"  On  along  Cataract  Creek,"  informed  Chet.  "  But 
the  Blanco  sheriff  and  Charley  Pow-wow  are  after 
him.    They  took  his  trail,  just  a  little  while  ago." 

"  All  right,"  declared  the  Rico  sheriff,  as  if  relieved. 
"  What  about  the  rest  of  the  gang,  Lem?  " 

"  I  can  show  you  their  tracks — comin'  in  an'  goin' 
out." 

"All  right,"  quoth  the  little  sheriff.  He  put  his 
feet  into  the  stirrups  again.  "  Guess  I'll  follow  *em 
a  ways.  Some  of  you'd  better  get  word  to  the  coroner, 
and  let  him  know  about  that  killing." 

"  A  man's  gone  in  already,"  answered  the  Box 
boss. 

He  and  the  little  sheriff  rode  aside,  and  the  sheep- 
man pointed  out  the  hoof-prints  of  the  invasion  and 
of  the  consequent  flight. 

"  They'll  probably  scatter  out  before  they  go  far," 
remarked  the  sheriff;  "but  I'll  follow  this  cracked 
hoof,  just  for  luck."  He  turned  his  horse,  and  without 
another  word  jogged  away  unconcernedly  through  the 


THE    SHEEPMAN'S    SHOT  199 

brush,  as  if  he  might  be  going  to  market  or  to  court. 
He  was  little  in  stature,  but  evidently  he  was  capable 
of  doing  big  deeds. 

The  Circle  K  could  not  be  of  much  assistance  to  the 
devastated  Box  camp,  and  with  a  "  Well,  boys — ''  Mr. 
Simms  lifted  Monte's  head,  to  leave.  Haney  ceased 
his  friendly  ministrations  to  the  dead  and  wounded 
animals,  and  wiping  his  hands  mounted  his  horse  to 
ride  back  with  his  colleagues. 

"  See  you  again,  Billy,"  said  Ford,  to  Mr.  Adams, 
as  they  trotted  away. 

"  Ought  to  have  set  Smith- Jones  on  the  trail," 
claimed  Haney.  "  Nobody  would  stand  much  show 
with  Smith- Jones  aftuh  him.  Terrible  man  on  the 
trail  is  Smith-Jones." 

"  Do  you  think  they  will  be  caught  ?  "  hazarded 
Phil,  of  Old  Jess,  ignoring  the  Texan's  banter. 

"  With  two  sheriffs  an'  an  Injun  follerin'  'em  some- 
thing ought  to  happen,"  grunted  Old  Jess. 

"  An'  one  of  'em  a  red-haided  sheriff,  too,"  observed 
Haney.  *'  Red-haided  men  are  bad  men  when  they  get 
riled  up.    I'm  red-haided  myself." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A  LITTLE  SURPRISE  PARTY 

The  Circle  K  (as  presumably  the  Box  also)  re- 
sumed the  even  tenor  of  its  daily  way.  Gus  agreed 
with  Mr.  Simms  that  there  would  not  be  another  raid ; 
the  sheriffs  of  two  counties  were  out,  and  public  sen- 
timent ought  to  be  against  the  barbarous  custom. 

"  But  if  dose  raiders  are  caught,  any  of  dem,  there 
will  be  not'ing  done  to  them,"  asserted  Gus.  "  Who- 
ever set  dem  on  will  stand  back  of  them  and  protect 
them.  You  will  see.  They  were  not  cowboys.  They 
were  outsiders  hired  to  do  the  job,  by  people  who  want 
this  range.  That  iss  a  great  pity;  but  that  iss  often 
the  way.  Men  are  hired  to  come  into  Wyoming  or 
Colorado  clear  from  Utah  or  New  Mexico,  and  pile 
up  the  sheep,  and  skip  out  as  quick  as  they  can.  I 
t'ink  dis  killed  man  knew  he  would  be  got  out  of  the 
penitentiary;  but  he  had  to  pay  for  being  got  out,  by 
killing  dose  sheep.    And  that  odder  man  helped  him." 

The  coroner  came  to  the  cabin  and  the  body  which 
had  been  interred  back  of  it  was  examined;  there 
seemed  to  be  no  question  but  that  the  Box  foreman  was 
to  get  the  five  hundred  dollars  reward.  This  was  some 
satisfaction — although,  as  the  foreman  had  stated,  the 
reward  did  not  pay  for  the  sheep,  in  which  he  had  a 
half  interest. 

aoo 


A   LITTLE    SURPRISE    PARTY        201 

And  now  the  Black  Mesa  range  might  settle  back  to 
its  long,  sunny,  peaceful  days  and  its  cool,  starry, 
peaceful  nights.  Still  were  arriving  the  lambs,  so  that 
all  the  brush  was  filled  with  their  high  bletherings,  and 
proud,  nervous  mother  ewes  ever  were  calling  and 
fondling.  The  lamb  crop  was  going  to  be  almost  one 
hundred  per  cent,  claimed  Gus,  who  appeared  delighted 
thereby;  a  banner  lambing  season,  this.  The  coyotes 
did  not  bother;  the  retribution  wreaked  upon  the  old 
fiend  must  have  been  published  widely,  and  have 
served  for  warning.  All  that  the  boys  and  Gus  needed 
to  do  was  to  loll  in  the  sage  and  the  aspens,  and  watch 
the  straying  of  their  shaggy  charges;  occasionally 
turning  back  the  black-face  ewe  and  the  brown-legged 
wether.  But  even  these  two  ring-leaders  were  less 
fractious  than  formerly,  as  if  cowed  by  Phil's  oft- 
repeated  injunction: 

"  The  raiders  will  get  you  if  you  don't  watch 
out." 

Sitting  now  at  dinner  in  the  tent,  the  boys  and  Gus 
had  a  visitor.  Outside  there  was  sound  of  hoof,  and 
jingle  of  bridle;  Kitty  growled,  and  thrust  her  head 
forth,  to  look.  Chet,  who  was  nearest  the  flaps,  arose 
and  joined  with  Kitty  to  investigate. 

"  Howdy,"  spoke  somebody. 

"  Howdy,"  Chet  responded. 

"  How's  the  grub  pile  ?  Any  chance  for  another 
hungry  man?  " 

"  I  reckon  so,"  said  Chet.     *'  Get  down  and  come 


in." 


With  creak  of  stirrup  leather  and  thud  of  foot  the 


202  THE   CIRCLE    K 

rider  dismounted,  and  presently  followed  Cliet  into  the 
tent.    Phil  and  Gus  looked  at  him  and  nodded. 

"  How  are  you?  "  they  exchanged,  with  him. 

For  the  guest  was  a  slender  young  man,  with  blue 
eyes  and  tanned  skin  and  a  generally  jaunty,  careless 
air.  A  cow-boy,  he,  by  his  chaps  and  gauntlets  and 
high-heeled,  small  boots,  by  his  straight-brimmed  hat 
and  the  blue  'kerchief  loosely  knotted  about  his  neck. 
He  grinned,  half  impudently. 

"  Always  room  for  one  more  at  a  sheep  camp,"  he 
quoth,  drawing  off  his  gloves.  "  I  was  riding  past  so 
I  thought  I'd  stop." 

"  Help  yourself,"  bade  Gus,  stolidly. 

"  Mutton  sure  tastes  good  after  veal  for  nine 
months,"  remarked  the  guest,  as  he  seated  himself, 
and  began  to  help  himself,  also. 

It  seemed  rather  good,  to  Phil,  to  be  in  a  cow-puncher 
atmosphere  again;  and  he  momentarily  wished  that  he 
too  was  wearing  the  chaps  and  spurs,  and  the  gaunt- 
lets and  the  'kerchief,  riding  for  the  old  Bar  B.  Sheep 
might  be  a  good  business  for  making  money,  but  life 
in  a  sheep  camp  w^as  life  afoot,  whereas  life  in  a  cow- 
camp  was  life  in  the  saddle.  And  chaps  were  superior 
to  overalls. 

"  Who  you  riding  for  ? "  queried  Chet,  casually, 
and  with  small  regard  for  grammar. 

"  The  Saddle  Cross.  We  range  over  beyond,  around 
the  Blues.  Haven't  seen  any  Saddle  Cross  cows,  have 
you.     I'm  out  hunting  strays." 

No,  they  hadn't  seen  any  Saddle  Cross  cows,  or  any 
other  cows.    ''  All  sheep  in  here,"  informed  Phil, 


A    LITTLE    SURPRISE    PARTY        203 

"That  so?"  answered  the  guest,  as  if  innocently. 
"  I  hear  one  of  you  sheep  outfits  got  piled  up  some  the 
other  night." 

"  That  wass  the  Box.  They  did  have  a  little 
trouble,"  said  Gus.  "  But  it  wass  not  cowboys.  One 
of  the  men  wass  killed  and  he  wass  a  outlaw." 

**  Well,"  commented  the  guest,  as  he  mounted  his 
horse,  "  this  is  shore  cattle  range,  all  this  country;  and 
I  should  think  you  fellers  would  feel  mighty  uneasy, 
after  the  dose  that  other  camp  got." 

"  We  will  be  here  until  we  get  t'rough.  We  are 
harming  nobody,"  called  Gus,  after  him. 

The  rider  only  turned  and  grinned  tauntingly.  And 
without  thanks  for  the  meal  (however,  no  thanks 
were  expected,  in  this  free  open)  spurred  into  a  gallop 
and  dashed  away. 

Chet  and  Phil,  indignant,  gazed  after  him.  His 
parting  words  had  been  almost  a  threat. 

"  That  certainly  was  some  nerve,"  spoke  Chet. 
"  He  stopped  off  just  to  size  us  up." 

"  I  t'ink  he  joost  would  Hke  to  frighten  us.  He  iss 
only  a  boy,"  asserted  Gus.  "  There  will  be  no  more 
trouble  on  dis  sheep  range  dis  year." 

Mr.  Simms,  riding  through  that  afternoon,  smiled 
grimly  when  he  chanced  to  learn  of  the  little  call. 

"  We  won't  lie  awake  over  how  he'd  feel  if  he  was 
in  our  shoes.  I  reckon  he  was  talking  cow-puncher 
talk.  I  know  how  it  is.  Those  boys  think  it's  all 
right  to  drop  in  and  eat  sheep-camp  grub,  and  then 
ride  off  with  a  sassy  word  and  no  thanks.  How's  the 
feed,  Gus  ?  "  he  asked,  abruptly  changing  the  subject. 


204  THE   CIRCLE    K 

"  It  iss  pretty  thin.     We  have  eat  it  all  up." 

"  I'll  have  Jess  come  over  and  move  you  in  the 
morning. 

And  Mr.  Simms  rode  on. 

So,  the  next  morning,  the  camp  was  moved;  Old 
Jess  coming  over  with  some  of  his  burros,  packing 
the  bedding  upon  the  horses  and  the  other  equipage 
upon  the  jacks,  and  traveling  down  the  draw,  while 
the  boys  and  Gus,  on  foot,  drove  the  sheep.  This  was 
no  easy  jaunt,  for  the  black-face  and  the  brown-leg 
turned  off  at  every  chance,  into  the  brush,  tolling  with 
them  their  foolish  followers,  and  the  herders  and 
Kitty  must  constantly  be  hot  after  them. 

The  new  camp  was  established  about  three  miles 
away  from  the  old,  and  by  that  much  nearer  the  Circle 
K  corrals.  For  the  time  was  approaching  when  the 
little  lambs  must  lose  their  tails  and  be  branded  with 
the  paint-stamp.  This  was  the  regulation  next  step  in 
sheep-tending  on  the  Western  range. 

However,  there  was  an  interruption.  Chet  it  was 
who,  the  second  morning  after  the  moving  of  the 
camp,  issuing  from  the  flaps  in  the  early  dawn  almost 
ran  against  a  placard  stuck  in  a  cleft  stick  planted  in 
the  ground  before  the  very  tent  door. 

It  was  embellished  with  a  flaring  skull  and  cross- 
bones,  rudely  drawn  with  charcoal;  and  it  said,  in 
lead  pencil : 


"  The  next  move  you  make  you  move  right 
out  of  the  country,  and  you  better  move  quick. 
This  means  YOU.    We  are  after  you. 

CATTLE. 


A    LITTLE    SURPRISE    PARTY        205 

"  Bah !  "  said  Gus.  "  Now  I  know  they  are  trying 
to  scare  us.    But  I  am  not  afeared  of  pictures/' 

Chet  was  angry.  Chet  did  not  often  blaze  up,  but 
when  he  did  he  was  hard  to  extinguish.  His  tanned 
face  flushed,  his  blue  eyes  winked  violently,  his  mouth 
set  like  his  father's. 

"  I'm  going  to  take  this  over  to  dad,"  he  growled. 
"  We'll  make  whoever  they  are  laugh  out  of  the  other 
side  of  their  mouth,  if  they  get  too  gay.     You  wait." 

So  he  rode  to  the  cabin;  and  arrived  back  again, 
more  gleeful  but  still  w^arlike,  reported. 

"  Lookee  here,"  he  bade,  dismounting  just  as  Gus 
and  Phil  were  issuing  from  the  tent,  after  nooning. 
"  I  got  dad's  big  old  Colt's.  When  she  goes  off  three 
times  they  can  hear  her  clear  to  the  cabin,  almost; 
Haney  and  Hombre  can  hear  her,  anyway,  and  they'll 
come  over."  He  tossed  the  great  weapon  and  car- 
tridge-studded holster  into  a  corner  of  the  tent. 
"  Gus  can  have  my  rifle,"  he  said. 

"  If  they  shoot  my  dog  den  I  shoot  back,"  informed 
Gus,  calmly.  "  But  it  iss  a  foolish  risk  to  go  shooting 
when  it  iss  only  the  sheep.  Dese  raiders  would  as 
soon  kill  a  herder  as  not,  if  they  are  given  an  excuse." 

Now  that  struck  Phil  as  odd;  that  Gus  would  will- 
ingly dare  death  by  storm  and  cold  and  hunger  for  his 
sheep,  and  yet  he  would  not  fight  men  for  them.  It 
was  different  being  shot,  from  being  frozen,  evidently. 

The  afternoon  passed.  Evening  came,  and  the 
herding  of  the  sheep  upon  the  new  bedding-ground. 
The  night  settled  down,  over  tent  and  range.  Mind- 
ful of  the  warning  notice,  both  Chet  and  Phil  felt  in 


2o6  THE   CIRCLE    K 

the  air  a  certain  menace,  as  if  the  camp  was  being 
reconnoitered  by  enemies  all  ready  to  pounce  upon  it. 
But  Gus  was  as  unconcerned  and  as  phlegmatic  as 
ever.     He  told  a  story: 

"  T'ree  years  ago  I  wass  herding  for  the  Serro 
Sheep  and  Cattle  Company,  on  the  desert.  That  wass 
a  bad  winter,  and  I  wass  snowed  in  with  t'ree  t'ousand 
sheep  for  t'ree  weeks.  For  the  last  ten  days  there 
wass  not'ing  for  my  sheep  to  eat  except  each  odder. 
I  must  go  ahead  of  dem,  and  tramp  a  path  for  dem, 
and  that  took  time,  for  the  snow  wass  up  to  my  neck 
all  around.  So  I  would  not  freeze  I  must  sleep  right 
in  with  the  sheep,  and  I  must  kill  some  and  drink  their 
blood  warm  so  I  would  have  strength  to  break  a  trail. 
When  I  got  dem  out,  they  looked  like  they  had  been 
sheared  by  a  poor  shearer,  for  they  had  eat  the  wool  off 
of  each  other's  backs  so.  Yes,  we  pretty  near  all  died. 
But  I  lost  only  about  two  hundred  out  of  the  t'ree 
t'ousand.  My  bosses  in  my  wagon  died,  and  I  must 
burn  the  wagon  up  for  fuel.  I  first  chopped  the  box, 
and  den  the  tongue,  and  den  the  wheels,  and  pretty  soon 
I  was  all  out  doors  with  just  the  stove.  I  had  to  pay 
for  the  wagon,  which  took  most  two  months'  wages." 

"  That  sure  was  mean,  to  make  you  do  that,"  sym- 
pathized Chet. 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Gus,  evenly.  "  But  I  did  not  have 
to  pay  for  the  bosses  and  the  sheep.    I  wass  lucky." 

The  blattings  of  the  sheep  upon  the  bedding-ground 
died  away,  the  wind  soughed  mournfully  along  the 
sage  around  about  the  camp,  and  very  soon  after  the 
lantern  was  extinguished  Gus  was  asleep.     Phil  was 


A    LITTLE    SURPRISE    PARTY        zoy 

certain  that  he  himself  lay  awake,  prepared  to  jump 
up  and  grab  his  weapon,  half  the  night,  and  Chet  was 
very  certain  that  he  was  awake  the  other  half;  but 
Phil  asserted  that  Chet  had  slept  right  through — ^and 
Chet  asserted  the  same  of  Phil.  Whereupon  in  the 
morning  ensued  quite  an  argument.  Only  Gus  was 
certain  of  what  he  had  done,  and  was  uncontradicted. 
Gus  had  slept,  and  did  not  deny  it. 

Another  day  passed,  and  came  another  night. 
Although  Phil  was  again  certain  that  he  had  lain 
awake,  keeping  watch  and  ward,  he  was  aroused,  sud- 
denly, amidst  the  darkness,  by  Gus  stirring  and  by 
Kitty  growling.  The  interior  of  the  tent  was  black 
and  chill.  But  Kitty  was  growling,  and  Gus  sat  up. 
Outside,  on  the  bedding-ground,  the  sheep  were  fit- 
fully murmuring,  sleepy  lambs  and  nervous  mammies 
inquiring,  answering,  reassuring. 

"  Somebody  iss  about,"  said  Gus,  in  undertone. 
"  Kitty,  she  hears  dem.  So  do  the  sheep.  I  do  not 
t'ink  it  iss  a  coyote." 

Phil 's  heart  was  in  his  throat,  and  thumping  wildly. 

"Chet!"    he    whispered,    nudging.      "Get    up!" 

Chet  resented. 

"  Quit !  "  he  stammered.  "  I'm  awake.  What  is 
it?  What's  the  matter?  What  you  punchin'  me 
for?" 

"  Somebody's  about." 

Chet  threw  off  the  covers  and  tried  to  get  up. 

"  Don't  make  any  light,"  bade  Gus,  who  was  as 
cool  and  phlegmatic  as  ever.  ^'  Coom  in  here,  Kitty ! 
You  stay  by  me.    You  get  shot," 


2o8  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"  What'll  we  do?  "  whispered  Phil.  "  I  don't  hear 
anything.    Is  it  a  crowd  to  raid  us?  " 

"  I  hear  dem,"  muttered  Gus.  "  Listen !  Hosses, 
and  men,  too.  We  will  crawl  out  under,  the  back- 
way.  Dey  will  shoot  holes  t'rough  the  tent.  It  iss  not 
safe  to  stay  in  the  tent." 

Harking,  Phil  could  distinguish,  above  the  increased 
murmurings  of  the  sheep,  a  faint,  intermittent  jingle 
and  thud,  a  low  laugh,  and  a  word  or  two  in  under- 
tone, all  muffled  by  night  and  distance. 

"  I  hear  'em !  "  exclaimed  Chet.  "  Where's  dad's 
gun?  Wish  I  could  light  a  match.  I  got  it.  Come 
on.  We'll  show  'em.  They  try  to  raid  this  camp  and 
they'll  get  burned." 

"  Easy,  easy,"  quoth  Gus.  "  We  crawl  out  the 
back  way.  You  had  better  put  on  your  boots,  or  you 
will  cut  your  feet  bad  in  the  brush.  Shut  up,  Kitty. 
You  stay  with  me,  or  you  may  get  hurt." 

Phil  fumbled  and  fumbled,  and  found  his  shoes. 
He  tugged — the  shoe  felt  queer,  it  was  the  left  boot 
on  the  right  foot,  but  he  did  not  stop  to  change.  He 
picked  up  his  carbine.  Gus  was  fingering  at  the  edge 
of  the  tent,  behind  the  bed;  he  jerked  the  canvas  loose 
from  the  stakes  there,  and  a  draught  of  cooler,  fresher 
air  rushed  in.  He  crawled  under,  with  Kitty,  growl- 
ing and  whining,  wriggling  after.  Chet  followed,  and 
Phil  pressed  upon  his  heels.  This  seemed  rather 
cowardly,  sneaking  out  the  back  way  and  deserting 
the  tent,  but  it  was  the  best  strategy. 

The  sheep  were  all  aroused,  now,  as  if  intuitively 
apprehending  danger.      The   stars   were   bright,   the 


A   LITTLE    SURPRISE    PARTY        209 

atmosphere  dimly  illuminated ;  overhead  rode  high  the 
great  dipper.  Into  the  brush  scuttled  Gus,  until  at 
some  distance  from  the  tent  he  halted,  and  squatted, 
with  a  grunt. 

"  Dis  iss  all  right,"  he  said.  "  I  t'ink  if  one  of  you 
stay  here,  and  anodder  go  a  littler  furder  along,  den 
Kitty  and  I  will  go  a  little  furder  still,  and  whoever 
they  are  will  get  a  surprise.  But  I  would  not  shoot 
straight  at  dem.  If  it  iss  a  yoke,  to  scare  us,  we  do 
not  want  to  kill  any  of  dem;  and  if  it  iss  not  a  yoke, 
we  do  not  want  to  get  killed  ourselves.  It  iss  a  bad 
t'ing  to  kill  or  get  killed." 

"  We'll  shoot  in  the  air  at  first,  but  they  mustn't 
get  too  gay,"  grumbled  Chet.  He  left  Phil,  and  went, 
stooping,  to  another  station.  So  did  Gus.  Gus,  in 
spite  of  his  peace  ideas,  had  Chet's  rifle. 

Phil  was  left  to  himself.  Crouching,  he  listened, 
holding  his  breath.  His  heart  still  thumped  tremen- 
dously, annoying  him  because  it  interfered  with  his 
listening.  But  he  could  hear  the  approaching  horse- 
men. They  seemed  to  be  chuckling.  Now  he  could 
even  distinguish  shadowy,  vague  forms,  in  the  gloom, 
against  the  brushy  slope.  He  peered,  and  dared  not 
move.  From  the  camp  issued  not  a  sound  except  the 
uneasy  mutterings  of  the  sheep. 

But  abruptly  the  silence  was  shattered.  All  in  an 
instant  arose  a  clamorous  medley  of  yelps  and  hoots, 
and  a  volley  of  shots,  and  the  shadowy  mass  came 
charging  like  phantoms  across  the  sage. 

Pandemonium  raged.  High  pealed  the  frightened 
cries  of  the  sheep — Kitty  barked  furiously — and  like 


2IO  THE    CIRCLE    K 

a  cannon  bang!  bang!  bang!  boomed  from  Chet's 
place  the  heavy  six-shooter.  Phil  elevated  the  muzzle 
of  his  carbine,  and  pulled  trigger.  The  jets  of  fire 
spurted  into  the  darkness. 

"  Give  it  to  'em!  Give  it  to  'em!  "  could  be  heard 
Chet's  excited  voice,  making  more  noise  than  anything 
else. 

Pellmell  the  sheep  (poor  beasts)  were  pouring  off 
the  bedding-ground  and  bolting  wildly  in  all  direc- 
tions through  the  sage.  They  fairly  ran  over  Phil, 
as  he  knelt,  firing  and  with  clumsy,  hurrying  fingers 
filling  his  magazine  to  fire  again.  A  woolly,  baaing 
body  collided  with  him,  and  glanced  off  at  a  tangent. 
It  almost  knocked  the  breath  out  of  him.  The  brush 
was  full  of  the  sheep.  On  the  bedding-ground  the  air 
was  punctuated  with  flashes  and  reports  and  shouts. 
The  flashes  were  darting  downwards  and  upwards; 
the  invaders  were  firing  at  the  sheep  as  well  as  into  the 
air.  One  flash  jetted  horizontally;  and  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  eye  Phil  noted  a  flash  from  Chet's  six- 
shooter  spring  to  meet  it.  Look  out!  They  were 
shooting  at  each  other!  This  was  getting  serious. 
He  leveled  his  carbine,  in  readiness  to  join,  in  earnest, 
if  need  be.  But  quickly  as  the  charge  had  been  made, 
as  quickly  was  it  over.  Wheeling  with  clash  of 
stirrups  and  jungle  of  bridles,  the  attacking  squad 
turned  and  dashed  madly  off,  into  the  gloom  again, 
still  shooting  but  delivering  mainly  a  chorus  of 
taunting  laughter,  and  cowpuncher  whoops  of  de- 
rision. 

Then  the  forms  were  swallowed  in  the  dusk,  and 


A   LITTLE    SURPRISE    PARTY        211 

except  for  a  spasmodic  shot  and  occasional  *'yip/' 
marking  the  retreat,  the  invasion  was  over. 

Far  and  near  the  frightened  sheep  were  baling 
piteously.  Chet  was  upon  his  feet,  and  was  running 
forward.     Gus  also  was  standing. 

"  I  got  somebody.  They  shot  at  me  and  I  shot 
back,  and  it  cost  'em  a  hawss,  anyway,"  was  calling 
Chet.    ''  Didn't  you  see  him  go  down?    I  did." 

He  went  stumbling  and  panting  through  the  sage 
and  the  sheep.     Phil  followed.     Kitty  came  running. 

Morning  must  be  near,  for  the  world  was  perceptibly 
graying.  Beyond  the  bedding-ground  could  be  made 
out  a  blackish  mass,  upon  the  ground.  That  was  the 
horse. 

"  There  it  is !  "  cried  Chet.  "  There  must  be  a  man 
around  here,  too.  I  didn't  see  them  double  up,  any  of 
'em.  Did  you?  If  there  is  a  man  he'd  better  not  try 
any  tricks  or  he'll  get  plugged,  too.  They'd  no  busi- 
ness shooting  at  us,  or  at  the  sheep.  Watch  out  for  a 
man  in  the  brush,  you  fellows." 

"  Kitty  will  find  him,"  spoke  the  voice  of  Gus. 
"  But  we  will  not  have  any  more  shooting.  It  iss  a 
yoke  carried  too  far." 

Kitty  had  found  him.  She  barked  angrily.  Chet 
ran.  So  did  Phil.  So  did  Gus;  for  if  anything  went 
wrong  with  Kitty,  he  wanted  to  be  on  deck. 

"  Hold  up  your  hands ! "  ordered  Chet,  crisply,  in 
a  voice  almost  his  father's.  "  'Way  up — and  you 
stand  up,  yourself." 

His  big  revolver  was  leveled;  he  stood  sturdily, 
aiming  apparently  at  the  down  horse.    The  morning 


212  THE    CIRCLE    K 

was  come;  gray  had  succeeded  black;  things  could  be 
seen  quite  plainly.  Whatever  was  making  Kitty  bark 
was  behind  the  horse,  for  she  was  glaring  there  and 
scolding  apparently  at  it. 

"  Don't  3^ou  shoot.  I  got  my  hands  up.  Can't  you 
see?  Please  don't  shoot,  mister."  And  just  beyond 
the  horse  a  figure  stood,  as  out  of  the  earth.  It  was  a 
man — his  hands  were  elevated.  "Look  out!  I  ain't 
doin'  nothin'.  I  got  my  hands  up.  Don't  you  pull  that 
trigger.  I'll  tell  you  all  I  know.  Really  I  will, 
mister." 

The  plaintive  voice  sounded  rather  familiar. 

"  Go  up  and  search  him,  Phil,"  directed  Chet,  in 
his  gruffest  tone.  "If  he  monkeys  with  you  I'll  bore 
him  right  through  the  stomach  like  I  would  a  coyote." 

Big  talk  this  was,  for  Chet;  but  he  meant  it. 

"  Yes,"  added  Gus.  "  He  will  find  that  raiding  a 
sheep  camp  iss  no  big  yoke.  We  are  bad  men,  in  dis 
camp." 

Big  talk  was  this  for  Gus,  also. 

Now  rapidly  nearing,  through  the  brush,  sounded 
galloping  hoofs. 

"  Some  of  our  men  coming,  I  t'ink,"  spoke  Gus. 
"  You  hold  dis  feller  and  I  will  go  and  see." 

"  Ain't  you  goin'  to  let  me  put  my  hands  down?  " 
whined  the  figure  standing  behind  the  body  of  the 
horse. 

"  Search  him,  Phil,"  directed  Chet.  "  Stand  at  one 
side,  though,  so  I  can  see  him." 

"  Oh,  Chet,"  laughed  Phil.  "  Do  you  know  who  it 
is?    It's  Hungry  Joe!  " 


HOLD  UP  YOUR  HANDS!'  ORDERED  CHET. 


A   LITTLE    SURPRISE    PARTY        213 

"  Shucks !  "  muttered  Chet,  disgusted.  "  I  thought 
it  was  a  man.  Search  him  anyway.  Keep  your  hands 
up,  you.    Don't  you  move,  either.'* 

"  He  hasn't  anything  on  him,"  reported  Phil. 
"  Come  on,  Joe.  You  remember  us.  You  wrangled 
the  hawss  herd  on  that  drive  last  summer." 

"  Can  I  put  my  hands  down?  "  whined  Hungry  Joe. 

"  No,"  ordered  Chet.  "  You  come  along  with  'em 
up." 

With  hands  painfully  elevated,  the  figure  preceded 
Phil  back  to  where  Chet  was  vigilantly  waiting.  Now 
it  w^as  quite  light  from  the  eastern  horizon,  and  the 
captive  could  be  easily  scanned.  He  was  a  very  thin, 
almost  cadaverous  youth,  of  perhaps  twenty  years, 
with  petulant,  long  features;  he  wore  flapping- 
brimmed  black  hat,  red  "  neckerchief,"  flannel  shirt, 
leathern  chaps,  elaborately  fringed,  and  high-heeled 
boots  with  large-rowelled  Mexican  spurs.  From  his 
sagging  belt  dangled  an  empty  revolver  holster  of 
large  size. 

"  Aw,  put  'em  down,  if  you  want  to,"  bade  Chet. 

"  You  killed  my  hawss ;  you  needn't  go  to  killin' 
me.  You  won't  kill  me,  will  you,  Chet.  I'll  tell  you 
everything  I  know.  I  didn't  do  no  harm.  I  didn't 
want  to  come.  They  made  me,"  whined  the  captive, 
well-nigh  blubbering. 

"  Is  your  hawss  dead  ?  " 

"  You  shot  him.  He  fell  over  on  me.  He  might 
have  hurt  me,  too.  Now,  I'll  have  to  pay  for  that 
hawss.    He  ain't  mine.    I  lost  my  revolver,  too." 

"  Here  are  Haney  and  Ford !  "  cried  Phil. 


214  THE    CIRCLE    K 

The  two  riders  whom  Gus  had  met  came  gal- 
loping up. 

"  Why,  hello,  Hungry  Joe,"  greeted  the  Texan. 
"  What  you  doin'  here.  Af tuh  mutton  ?  Nevuh  did 
see  anybody  wantin'  to  eat  so,  all  the  time." 

"  They  made  me  do  it,"  whimpered  Hungry 
Joe. 

"  Reg'lar  caow-boy,  ain't  he,"  commented  Haney, 
to  Ford,  with  mock  admiration.  "  Look  at  those  big 
or  chaps.    Wish  I  could  be  cow-boy  again." 

"Where  did  you  come  from,  Joe?"  demanded 
Ford. 

"  Over  on  the  Big  Blue.  It  was  all  a  joke.  Didn't 
anybody  tell  me  it  was  you  fellers  who  were  here. 
We  thought  it  was  just  common  herders  an'  we'd 
scare  'em." 

"  Weahs  a  big  ol'  gun,  too,  don't  he  ?  "  admired 
Haney.  "  Look  at  that  holster — hengin'  daown  laike  a 
hawgshaid.  Where  is  youah  gun,  Joe?  In  youah 
pocket?" 

"  I  lost  it  when  I  fell,"  complained  Hungry  Joe. 

They  all,  except  Gus,  knew  him  well;  he  had  been 
the  dyspeptic  young  man  picked  up  down  in  New 
Mexico  last  summer,  and  enrolled  as  wrangler  over 
the  remuda  or  horse-herd  on  the  cattle-drive  up  into 
Colorado. 

"  He  popped  in  my  direction  and  I  popped  back," 
vaunted  Chet.  "  There's  his  hawss,  dead  in  the 
brush." 

"  You'll  have  to  pay  for  it,  too,"  scolded  Hungry 
IJoe. 


A   LITTLE    SURPRISE    PARTY        215 

"  You  will  have  to  pay  for  our  dead  sheep.  There 
iss  several  dead  and  hurt,"  accused  Gus. 

"  Here  comes  the  bavvss.  Now  you  all  can  explain 
to  him,"  remarked  Haney. 

Mr.  Simms,  and  Old  Jess,  were  racing  across  the 
sage,  making  for  the  camp.  The  sun  rose,  flooding 
the  brush  with  broad  pale-pink  beams.  The  sheep 
were  baaing  and  baaing,  seeking  missing  children 
and  mothers  and  friends. 

''  What's  all  this  trouble  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Simms. 
His  face  was  stern  and  gray  with  anxiety.  He  and 
Old  Jess  glanced  sharply  through  the  group  and 
around  through  the  brush.  "Who's  this?  I  heard 
shooting."  , 

**  Everybody  was  shootin','*  drawled  Haney. 
"  They-all  shot,  an'  we-all  shot,  an'  Ford-all  shot, 
an'  now  you-all — you-all  come.  An'  it's  nobody  but 
pore  Hungry  Joe,  lookin'  foh  mutton." 

"Any  sheep  killed?" 

"  One,  iss  all,"  answered  Gus,  who  had  been  dili- 
genth'  searching.  "  And  that  iss  the  brown-legged 
rascal.     But  some  are  hurt." 

"  What  were  you  up  to  ?  '*  demanded  Mr.  Simms, 
severely,  of  Hungry  Joe.  "  Where  did  you  come 
from?" 

"  From  the  Big  Blue.  It  was  a  joke.  We  didn't 
mean  to  pile  'em  up." 

"Who  was  with  you?" 

"  Just  some  boys  from  over  there.*' 

"  Whom  you  riding  for  ?  " 

"  The  Saddle  Cross." 


2i6  THE   CIRCLE   K 

"  He's  a  shuah  cow-boy.  See  them  Southwest 
chaps?  "  advised  Haney. 

"I  killed  his  hawss  under  him,"  informed  Chet. 
"  I  wouldn't  have  done  it,  only  he  shot  right  at  me." 

"  Who  set  you  on,  to  do  this  thing  ?  "  continued 
Mr.  Simms. 

**We  done  it  just  for  fun,"  whined  Hungry  Joe. 
"  They  made  me  come.     I  didn't  want  to." 

He  was  a  most  abject  specimen  of  cow-boy. 

''  Bah!  "  said  Mr.  Simms.  "  Turn  him  loose.  Get 
out  of  here." 

"  Ought  to  string  him  up  an'  switch  him," 
grumbled  Old  Jess. 

"  Can't  I  have  a  hawss?  You  killed  mine,"  accused 
Hungry  Joe. 

"Hawss?  Yes — saw-hawss,  with  a  quirt  laid 
across  your  back,"  retorted  the  cowman.  "  Get  out 
of  here,  pronto." 

"  Can't  I  find  my  gun?  I  lost  my  gun,"  persisted 
Hungry  Joe. 

"Iss  this  it?"  asked  Gus.  He  held  up  a  Colt's 
bigger  even  than  the  one  Chet  had  borrowed  of  his 
father.    At  least,  it  looked  bigger. 

"  Yes,"  said  Hungry  Joe,  eagerly. 

"  It  iss  too  heavy  for  you  to  carry  when  you  walk," 
remarked  Gus.  "  And  if  the  sheriff  would  meet  you 
he  would  take  it  away.    Here  he  comes  now." 

The  sheriff  of  Rice — yes,  indeed,  the  little  red- 
bristled  sheriff  of  Rico  was  riding  down,  through  the 
morning  sunshine  and  the  freshness,  while  the  sheep, 
browsing,   many   of  them,   parted  before  him;  and 


A   LITTLE   SURPRISE    PARTY        217 

ahead  he  appeared  to  be  driving  another  horseman — 
another  cowboy. 

The  sheriff  rode  jauntily;  the  cowboy  rode  sullenly. 

"  By  the  great  horn-spoon.  He's  got  Buster," 
ejaculated  Old  Jess. 

Chet  giggled. 

"  It  shore  is  Buster,"  he  quoth,  to  Phil.  "  Wouldn't 
that  kill  yuh.    He  was  in  the  raid  too,  I  bet." 

All  waited  and  watched.  The  sheriff,  arrived, 
halted,  and  threw  his  leg  across  the  saddle  horn.  He 
smiled  cheerily — although  by  eyes  and  mien  he  was 
weary.  The  cowboy  was  in  well-worn  puncher  garb — 
a  real  puncher,  he,  lithe,  tow-headed,  but  albeit  now 
flushed  as  he  met  the  looks  of  the  Circle  K. 

'*Why,  hello.  Buster,"  greeted  Mr.  Simms. 
"What's  the  matter?" 

"  Ask  him,"  answered  the  cowboy,  with  a  jerk  of 
the  head  at  the  sheriff. 

"Hello,  Buster,"  addressed  Phil. 

"  Hello,"  grunted  Buster. 

He  was  another  old  acquaintance — a  former  Bar  B 
rider,  of  Mr.  Simms'  cow  outfit  when  Phil  had  ridden 
the  range  with  Chet. 

"  Met  him  out  pretty  early,  and  some  in  a  hurry,  so 
I  fetched  him  back  with  me,"  informed  the  sheriff  of 
Rico  county.  "  Calculated  some  of  your  sheep  might 
identify  him.  I  heard  talk  that  you  might  be  piled  up. 
I  was  coming  this  way,  anyhow." 

"Were  you  in  that  gang.  Buster?  "  demanded  Mr. 
Simms. 

"What  gang?" 


2i8  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"  He  was.  He  was,  too/'  accused  Hungry  Joe, 
shrilly.  "  I  can  tell  you  all  about  it.  He  was,  an'  so 
was  a  man  they  call  Flap-Ears,  an'  two  or  three  other 
fellers.  They  went  off  an'  left  me  layin'  on  the 
ground,  an'  I  pretty  near  got  shot  for  it,  an'  that  dog 
nearly  bit  me,  too." 

Buster  glared  at  him  venomously. 

"  Listen  to  that,  will  yu !  "  he  said.  "  An'  he  calls 
himself  a  man,  an'  wears  leather  pants!  We  didn't 
know  it  was  yu,  Mr.  Simms,  an'  we  didn't  intend  to 
hurt  yore  sheep.  A  Saddle  Cross  boy  said  there  was 
two  kids  an'  a  Swede  herder  over  here  in  a  tent,  an'  we 
thought  we'd  scare  'em.  Yu  know  how  I  hate  w^ool- 
lies,  but  I  shore  wouldn't  have  come  if  I'd  a  known  it 
was  yore  outfit.     Did  we  kill  any  of  the  baa-baas?  " 

"  One,  they  say.  You  ought  to  inquire  into  these 
things  before  you  start  what  you're  liable  not  to 
finish." 

"  I'd  just  like  to  give  you  boys  a  good  dose,"  said 
the  sheriff.  "  If  I  thought  any  of  you  were  in  that 
other  gang  that  piled  up  the  Box  sheep  I'd  sure  have 
you  pounding  rock  for  it.  This  sheep  killing  in  my 
county  has  got  to  stop." 

"  Well,  we  weren't  none  of  us  in  that  Box  deal," 
retorted  Buster.  "  But  we  don't  want  any  sheep  on 
this  range.  This  is  cattle  range — or  it  soon  will 
be." 

"  What'll  I  do  with  him,  George  ?  "  inquired  the 
sheriff.  "  I'll  take  him  in  to  town — I'll  take  'em  both 
in,  if  you  say  so." 

"  No,  yu  don't  take  me  along  with  that  coward 


A    LITTLE    SURPRISE    PARTY        219 

there,"  snarled  Buster.  *'  I'll  go  in  peaceable,  but  I 
won't  go  with  him." 

"  Aw,  you  ain't  goin'  to  arrest  me,  Mr.  Sheriff,  are 
you  ?  "  pleaded  Hungry  Joe,  groveling  again.  "  I'll 
tell  you  all  about  it.  I'll  turn  state's  evidence.  Truly 
I  will,  Mister  Sheriff,  and  Mister  Simms  too.  You 
won't  hang  me,  will  you  ?  " 

"  A-a-ah,  shut  up,  yu  coyote,"  snarled  Buster. 
"  Yu're  worse'n  a  sheep.  Yu  make  tracks  as  quick 
as  ever  yu  can,  an'  don't  yu  show  yoreself  where  any 
of  us  can  get  at  yu!  " 

"Let  'em  both  go,"  said  Mr.  Simms.  "You're 
sorry,  are  you,  Buster?" 

"  I  shore  am,  Mr.  Simms.  I  hate  sheep,  but  I  ain't 
mean  enough  to  go  back  on  my  own  outfit,  whether 
it  runs  beef  or  mutton.  Yu  ain't  Circle  K  to  me; 
yu're  Bar  B." 

"  Skip,  then,"  bade  the  ex-cowman. 

"  Well,"  said  Buster,  regretfully,  "  adios.  Yu  fel- 
lers won't  be  bothered  any  more." 

He  rode  away — followed  by  a  wail  from  Hungry 
Joe. 

"  You  ain't  goin'  to  leave  me.  Buster.  Don't  leave 
me.    I  ain't  got  any  hawss." 

Buster  rode  on. 

"  A  dead  hawss  is  hawss  enough  for  you,"  grunted 
Old  Jess.  "  Yuh  pack  that  saddle  an'  take  a  pasear ; 
you're  spoilin'  this  range.  Sheep  won't  feed  where 
you  are." 

Whimpering,  Hungry  Joe,  the  disgraced,  hastily 
tugged  and  pried  at  the  cinches  on  the  dead  horse.    It 


220  THE    CIRCLE    K 

was  a  scrawny  black.  Chet  had  shot  it  right  througH 
the  neck.  The  heavy  Colt's  forty-five  had  torn  a  great 
hole. 

They  all  let  Joe  alone,  to  work  out  his  own  problem. 

"  Don't  I  get  my  gun  ?  "  he  called  querulously. 

"  No,"  said  Gus,  tucking  the  huge  thing  into  the 
waistband  of  his  overalls.  "  But  if  you  should  want 
to  shoot  yourself  with  it,  come  to  me  and  I  will  den 
give  it  to  you." 

The  sheep  had  scattered  widely,  and  everybody  set 
to  work  to  gather  them  and  head  them  aright.  The 
sun  was  bright,  the  day  was  fair. 

"  There  he  goes,"  directed  Phil,  to  Chet.  And  they 
must  laugh,  for  Hungry  Joe  was  staggering  dolefully 
away,  through  the  sage,  lugging  the  heavy  saddle  and 
encumbered  by  his  stiff  chaps. 

"  Sentenced  to  hard  labor ;  that's  plenty,"  observed 
the  sheriff  of  Rico  county,  who  had  paused  to  chat  a 
moment.    "  Well,  I'll  be  going,  myself." 

"  Nothing  new  in  that  Box  mess,  is  there?  "  queried 
Mr.  Simms. 

"  Nada — nothing.  Might  be,  if  we  could  f oiler  high 
enough.  I  have  my  suspicions ;  and  I  tell  you,  I  could 
mention  names  that  would  surprise  you.  Way-up 
people,  who  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  meddle  with  a 
poor  sheep-camp,"  and  the  little  sheriff  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  "  How's  that  other  sheriff  doing?  Heard 
he  found  the  hawss  with  bloody  saddle — and  that's 
all." 
*"  That's  all,  far  as  I  know,"  responded  Mr.  Simms. 

"Well,"  remarked  the  little  officer,  again;  *' adios. 


A   LITTLE    SURPRISE    PARTY        221 

I  guess  there  won't  be  any  more  trouble  on  the  mesa, 
this  year." 

He  rode  away. 

"  I  said  that  not'ing  would  come  out  of  investigating 
that  Box  raid,"  declared  Gus.  ''  No.  Not'ing  ever 
does.  Anyway,  we  got  off  easy.  Sheep  not  hurt 
much.  I  t'ink  we  should  t'ank  dem  for  killing  that 
brown-legged  rascal  for  us.  I  wish  somebody  would 
come  and  kill  that  old  black-face  fool;  and  den  we 
could  travel  nicely.  I  wass  going  to  kill  that  brown- 
legged  one  myself,  in  a  day  or  two,  when  we  needed 
meat" 


CHAPTER    XVII 

WHEN  LAMBS  LOSE  THEIR  TAILS 

Now  had  come  the  time  on  the  lambing  range  when 
all  the  little  lambs  must  be  marked — must  lose  their 
tails,  the  little  boy  lambs  slices  of  their  ears  also,  and 
must  take  the  paint  brand  of  the  Circle  K.  This  was 
the  last  event  for  the  lambing  range ;  following  it,  the 
Circle  K  would  take  the  long  trail  for  the  high  coun- 
try of  Ptarmigan  Flats,  there  to  spend  the  remainder 
of  the  summer. 

The  make-believe  raid  upon  the  camp  was  a  matter 
of  ten  days  past  and  the  camp  had  again  been  changed 
to  fresh  pasturage,  when  riding  in  from  a  short  tour 
of  the  other  camps  Gus  reported  his  news.  "  To- 
morrow we  will  trail  the  band  over  to  the  marking- 
out  corral.  I  met  Old  Jess,  and  he  said  that  they  would 
be  ready  for  us.  Haney  and  Hombre's  band  wass 
marked  out  yesterday.  They  lambed  ninety-t'ree  per 
cent.    I  t'ink  we  maybe  can  beat  dem." 

"  Shore  we  can,"  declared  Phil — who  really  did 
not  know  anything  about  it. 

The  marking-out  corral  was  built  of  the  slim  stems 
of  aspens  and  pines,  secured  without  the  use  of  nails 
by  being  laid  between  pairs  of  posts.  The  whole 
corral  had  not  a  nail  in  it,  but  was  erected  out  of 
material  to  be  found  in  the  nearby  young  timber, 

222 


WHEN    LAMBS    LOSE    THEIR    TAILS    223 

It  was  divided  into  several  pens,  with  a  narrow  pas- 
sage or  shute  running  between,  and  was  located  about 
two  miles  from  the  cabin,  in  the  open  amidst  the  sage 
already  trampled  by  the  preceding  band  of  Haney  and 
Hombre. 

The  boys  and  Gus  had  made  camp  nearby,  on  the 
preceding  evening;  and  now,  letting  the  sheep  graze 
while  they  ate  their  own  breakfast,  at  five  o'clock  they 
were  interrupted  by  Mr.  Simms,  Hombre  and  Luis 
the  Californian  arriving  together.  Evidently  the 
marking-out  process  required  quite  a  "  gang; "  and  so 
it  did,  to  push  it  through  in  a  hurry.  Only  an  occa- 
sional late  lamb  was  now  being  born,  the  other  Iambs 
were  waxing  large  and  strong,  the  days  were  becoming 
hot,  the  spring  herbage  was  tough,  and  suddenly  into 
the  atmosphere  had  crept  a  fever  of  impatience  for  the 
high  country. 

The  breakfast  dishes  must  wait,  to-day;  with  shout 
and  gesture  and  with  bark  of  Kitty,  Gus's  dog,  and 
Bonita,  Luis's  dog,  tied  to  the  brush  that  they  might 
not  interfere,  the  sheep  were  driven  into  the  largest 
pen  of  the  corral.  There  they  baaed  tremendously. 
The  air  was  rife  with  their  musky  odor.  The  lambs 
pressed  close  to  their  mammies,  as  if  afraid. 

Connected  with  this  large  pen  was  a  smaller  pen. 
Luis,  Hombre  and  Gus  it  w^as  who  stayed  in  with  the 
sheep  ("  Three  are  enough!  "  called  Mr.  Simms,  from 
outside)  and  with  waving  of  arms  and  of  gunny  sacks 
forced  a  portion  of  them,  midst  a  cloud  of  dust,  into 
the  second  pen.  Speedily  this  pen  was  filled,  and  the 
gate  was  closed. 


224  THE   CIRCLE    K 

"  You  boys  work  that  jump  gate,"  directed  Mr. 
Simms. 

"  Bueno.  I  show  you,"  proffered  Hombre,  with  his 
sunny  smile. 

The  jump  gate  proved  to  be  a  gate  about  two- 
thirds  along  the  shute,  set  against  a  post,  right  in 
the  middle,  and  swinging  both  ways.  Here  were 
two  exits;  and  opening  one  exit  the  gate  closed  the 
other. 

The  sheep,  young  and  old,  of  the  smaller  pen  were 
being  urged  on  to  fill  the  shute. 

"  Eet  is  dees  way,"  directed  Hombre,  to  Chet  and 
Phil.  "  When  leetle  lamb  he  come  along,  you  must 
turn  gate  quick  an'  let  him  into  dees  pen  on  the  right. 
When  old  sheeps  come  along,  you  mus'  turn  gate 
quick  and  let  her  into  other  pen,  on  left.  Lambs,  dey 
all  go  into  right-han'  pen;  sheeps,  dey  all  go  into  left- 
han'  pen.  Savvy?  That  so  we  have  each  kind  to- 
gether. Sometime  dey  come  so  fast  you  got  to  work 
fast,  too." 

Down  the  shute  were  crowding  the  animals,  prodded 
from  behind  by  Gus  and  Luis  to  make  them  move. 
The  first  was  an  old  wether.  He  looked  up  with  his 
snaky  yellow  eyes,  at  the  two  boys,  leaning  over,  their 
hands  upon  the  gate;  he  looked  up  even  intelligently, 
and  as  the  gate  was  swung,  to  bar  his  passage  to  the 
right  and  open  it  to  the  left,  he  almost  nodded,  and 
scuttled  through  obediently,  with  a  little  kick-up  of 
delight  as  he  entered  the  yet  empty  pen  awaiting  him 
and  his  mates. 

"  Look  out! "  exclaimed  Chet,  jerking  at  the  gate; 


WHEN    LAMBS    LOSE   THEIR   TAILS    225: 

for  now  a  lamb  had  darted  forward  and  had  tried  to 
follow  the  wether. 

"No,  you  don't!"  warned  Phil,  as  with  Chet  he 
jammed  the  gate  hard  in  the  other  direction.  It  bumped 
the  lamb  on  the  nose ;  he  recoiled,  astonished,  and  with 
a  blat  of  alarm  scuttled  into  the  lamb's  pen  on  the 
right. 

So  fast  came  the  procession,  nose  to  tail,  and  lambs 
mixed  close  with  the  elders,  that  swinging  the  gate 
required  quick  eye  and  hand.  Twice  ewes  got  through 
the  wrong  opening — for  the  mammies  especially  had  a 
trick  of  suddenly  taking  a  leap  and  bolting  for  the 
hole  through  which  the  lambs  had  disappeared.  Very 
stupid  and  head-strong  were  many  of  the  old  sheep, 
while  others  were  easily  managed.  These  errant  ewes 
were  promptly  seized  by  Hombre,  who  was  in  ambush 
just  beyond  the  gate,  and  lifted  by  the  hind  legs  were 
deftly  and  unceremoniously  dumped  right  over  the 
partition  into  the  rightful  pen.  They  landed  with  a 
thump  upon  their  sides,  to  pick  themselves  up  and  gaze 
reproachfully  about. 

"  Dere !  "  addressed  Hombre.    "  Now  you  stay." 

Several  times,  also,  lambs  sneaked  in  with  the  sheep, 
before  the  gate  could  be  swung  to  block  them;  and 
Hombre  must  leap  over  in  and  throw  them,  likewise, 
into  the  proper  compartment.  But  he  did  it  more 
gently. 

Pen-full  after  pen-full  was  run  through  the  shute, 
until  about  nine  o'clock  the  band  had  all  been  as- 
sorted; one  pen  was  jammed  with  the  ewes  and 
wethers,  one  pen  with  the  wobbly,  woolly  lambs,  some 


226  THE    CIRCLE    K 

large,  some  quite  small;  the  majority  white,  a  few 
black.  High  rose  the  blattings,  as  lambs  called  to  their 
mammies,  and  mammies  answered. 

Standing  in  another  enclosure,  against  the  rail  fence 
which  divided  it  from  the  lamb  pen,  Luis  the  Cali- 
fornian,  his  hat  off  and  crimson  shirt-sleeves  rolled 
high  up  above  his  swarthy  elbows,  was  sharpening  a 
pocket-knife  upon  a  little  whet-stone.  Beside  him  was 
standing  Mr.  Simms,  examining  a  paint  stamp  (like 
the  paint  stamp  wielded  by  Old  Jess  at  the  shearing 
corral)  ;  a  bucket  of  paint  was  hung  from  one  of  the 
rails. 

**  All  right.  Pass  dem  up,"  said  Gus ;  as  sweaty  and 
grimly  he  vaulted  into  the  lambs'  pen. 

Hombre  imitated  him. 

*'  Come  on ;  we  can  help.  They're  going  to  cut  off 
the  tails,"  spoke  Chet,  to  Phil.    "  You'll  see." 

"  All  ready,"  announced  Mr.  Simms. 

Luis,  feeling  the  edge  of  his  knife-blade,  nodded. 

Gus,  knee-deep  among  the  lambs,  seized  one,  and 
lifting  it  to  the  top  rail  of  the  fence  presented  it  upside 
down  and  tail-end  first  to  Luis.  With  one  stroke  of 
the  keen  knife  Luis  cut  off  the  tail,  about  two  inches 
from  the  body!  A  tiny  thread  of  blood  spurted  up, 
and  struck  Gus  in  the  face  as  the  stump  curved  with 
pain.  The  lamb  gave  a  baa  of  protest,  Phil  uttered  a 
shocked  exclamation.  The  sight  almost  sickened  him. 
But  he  had  seen  calves  branded  and  ear-marked,  and 
he  steeled  himself  to  this  also.  With  another  quick 
motion  taking  the  lamb's  left  ear  between  thumb  and 
blade  Luis  snipped  a  long  triangle,  or  swallow-fork, 


WHEN    LAMBS    LOSE    THEIR    TAILS    227^ 

in  it.  From  the  ear  also  spurted  a  tiny  thread  of 
blood. 

Phil  winced.  But  the  worst  was  over  for  this  lamb ; 
Gus  stepped  aside  with  him,  turned  him  over  and 
offered  his  back  to  Mr.  Simms,  who  pressed  the 
wooden  stamp  upon  it,  leaving  a  black  Circle  K.  Gus 
reached  over  and  lowered  the  lamb  to  the  ground  in  the 
empty  pen,  and  it  went  kicking  and  bucking  away, 
feeling  a  decided  smart  before  and  behind. 

Hombre  was  holding  another  lamb  for  Luis  to 
mark,  and  Gus  picked  up  a  third,  to  have  in  readi- 
ness. 

"What  do  they  cut  the  tails  off  for?"  demanded 
Phil.    "Whew!    It  must  hurt." 

"  No  want  tails  on  sheeps,"  replied  Hombre. 
"  Gather  to  much  dirt  an'  stuff,  an'  sheeps  no  need  'em. 
Tails  no  good.  Hard  to  carry  'round.  Now  I  guess 
meat  what  goes  into  tail,  goes  into  mutton,  after  tail 
he  gets  cut  off." 

"  Luis  doesn't  mark  the  ears  of  all  the  lambs.  He 
skipped  one  then,"  observed  Phil. 

"  We  ear-mark  the  wether  lambs,  is  all,  to  pick  them 
out  easy  in  a  bunch  from  the  ewe  lambs,"  explained 
Mr.  Simms. 

"  Let's  get  over  in.  We  can  catch  lambs  for  them," 
invited  Chet,  tired  of  the  inaction  of  being  spectator. 

So  into  the  pen  they  went,  and  about  their  feet 
dodged  the  lambs.  When  Phil  caught  one  he  w^as 
more  sorry  for  it — so  warm  and  soft  and  babyish  it 
was.  But  the  law  of  the  sheep  range  was  as  stern  as 
the  law  of  cow  range;  and  man  was  master  to  inflict 


22d>  THE    CIRCLE    K 

whatsoever  he  choose.  Phil  passed  his  lamb  to 
Hombre. 

In  due  time  the  lambs  grew  perceptibly  scarcer,  and 
must  be  chased  before  they  could  be  caught.  It  was  no 
longer  a  case  of  stooping,  grabbing,  and  passing  as 
fast  as  hands  could  work.  Furthermore,  the  lambs 
were  growing  heavier.  No  easy  job  was  it,  this  rais- 
ing fifteen  and  twenty  pound  animals,  who  kicked  and 
wriggled  and  must  be  held  tight;  raising  them  one 
after  another  without  stop.  The  boys  puffed  and  per- 
spired ;  Hombre  and  Gus  were  puffing  and  perspiring, 
and  they  and  Luis  were  streaked  with  the  blood  from 
tail  stumps  and  cleft  ears.  Along  the  fence  were  scat- 
tered the  tails — queer,  limp  things,  like  shreds  of  wool. 

"  How  many  do  we  do  to-day,  I  wonder,"  panted 
Phil. 

"  Do  dem  all,"  assured  Gus.  "  Yes.  One  good  man 
to  cut,  with  odder  good  man  to  pass  him  the  lambs  fast 
and  right,  can  mark  out  t'ree  t'ousand  in  a  day.  We 
have  not  got  t'ree  t'ousand,  of  course." 

"  Si,"  confirmed  Hombre.  "  An'  Luis,  he  good 
man.    We  all  good  men." 

Gus  grunted,  as  if  doubtful.  He  did  not  like 
Luis. 

There  was  no  pausing  for  nooning.  But  presently 
Mr.  Simms  paused,  and  wiped  his  brow  with  his  paint- 
black  hand.  He  left  a  smear,  which  matched  another 
on  his  cheek. 

"  Those  boys  can  pass  up  the  rest  of  the  lambs,"  he 
said.  "  You  two  men  might  go  over  and  help  Ford 
bring  on  that  band  of  his.    We'll  get  at  it  to-morrow." 


WHEN    LAMBS    LOSE    THEIR   TAILS    229 

''All  right.  We  can;  can't  we,  Phil?"  declared 
Chet. 

"  Sure,"  said  Phil. 

Gus  and  Hombre  resigned  their  posts.  Hombre 
paused  a  moment,  good-naturedly  to  watch  and  to 
advise.  Phil's  turn  was  first,  as  he  was  ready  with  his 
lamb.  He  held  the  little  fellow  firmly,  offering  it  to 
Luis  upside-down  as  he  had  seen  the  two  men  offer 
their  lambs.  It  was  warm  and  palpitating  in  his  grasp, 
he  could  feel  its  heart  throbbing,  it  lifted  its  head  and 
looked  with  babyish  eyes  into  his  face  as  if  inquiring: 
"  What  are  you  doing  with  me  ?  "  But  Luis  mechan- 
ically and  mercilessly  stretched  with  one  hand  its 
tail,  and  with  the  other  slashed  with  the  knife.  Off 
came  the  tail,  the  lamb  gave  a  surprised  little  blat,  and 
quivered  through  all  its  frame;  Phil  felt  a  qualm  of 
sickness,  and  would  have  shut  his  eyes,  but  Luis  flung 
the  tail  down  and  he  knew  that  he  must  turn  the  lamb 
head- foremost  that  its  ear  might  be  clipped.  That  was 
not  so  bad,  and  gladly  he  passed  on  with  the  luckless 
youngster  to  Mr.  Simms.  Holding  it  hunched  with 
back  uppermost  he  presented  it;  its  hide  wrinkled  ap- 
prehensively under  the  branding  stamp,  but  that  did 
not  hurt  it  any,  and  he  might  drop  it  gently  over  the 
top  rail.  Away  it  scampered,  to  join  the  other  initiates 
grouped  in  the  sunshine  in  the  far  end  of  the  pen. 

But  before  he  had  time  to  grab  another  lamb,  there 
was  a  sudden  outburst  of  shouts  and  growls  mingled, 
from  the  brush  behind,  and  a  quick  exclamation  from 
Luis.  Instantly  he  leaped  the  fence,  ran  through  the 
lambs*  first  pen  and  vaulted  that  also.    His  dog  and 


230  THE    CIRCLE    K 

Giis's  were  having  a  tremendous  combat.  Hombre 
was  hurrying  to  the  scene.  Gus  was  warily  circling 
the  twain,  watching  for  opportunity  to  separate  it. 

"Fight!"  cried  Chet.     "Look  at  *em,  will  yuh!" 

Mr.  Simms  gazed. 

"  They  certainly  are  having  it/'  he  commented. 

The  two  dogs  were  rolling  over  and  over  in  the  sage. 
Kitty  had  been  untethered  by  Gus,  to  accompany  him ; 
but  Bonita,  Luis's  dog,  was  still  tied  and  therefore  was 
at  disadvantage.  Now  Kitty  had  her  down,  and  was 
boring  with  sharp  nose  into  her  throat,  while  she 
chewed  at  Kitty's  fore  leg.  There  was  something 
wolf-like  and  savage  beyond  words  in  their  furious 
tussle.  What  had  caused  it  who  might  tell ;  but  they 
must  have  exchanged  challenges  during  the  marking 
out,  or  else  there  was  the  same  jealousy  which  marked 
the  attitude  of  Gus  toward  the  Calif ornian. 

Now  Luis  had  arrived.  His  red  shirt  darted  upon 
the  field.  Gus  might  have  been  seeking  a  good  op- 
portunity to  seize  Kitty  and  drag  her  off,  but  it  did 
seem  that  he  was  unnecessarily  delaying,  giving  Kitty 
plenty  of  time  to  work.  Luis  must  have  felt  that  way, 
for  without  a  moment's  hesitation  he  flung  himself 
upon  the  fighters  and  with  vigorous  toe  sent  Kitty 
fairly  flying  through  the  air.  She  vented  a  grievous 
yelp,  and  lay  struggling  out  of  breath  a  dozen  feet 
away.  The  impact  of  the  boot  against  her  side  was 
plainly  heard,  at  the  corral. 

"  By  thunder,  that  will  mean  trouble,"  said  Mr. 
Simms. 

With  a  bellow  of  rage  Gus  sprang  at  the  Indian — 


WHEN    LAMBS    LOSE    THEIR    TAILS    231 

but  Luis'  knife  thrust  straight  at  his  face,  and  he 
jumped  back. 

''  Look  out !  "  called  Mr.  Simms.    "  None  o'  that !  '* 

He  threw  down  his  branding  stamp  and  likewise 
leaped  the  fence.  Phil  was  quicker,  for  he  had  noth- 
ing to  discard.  He,  too,  sped,  followed  by  Mr.  Simms 
and  Chet.  Without  a  word  Gus  had  turned  and  had 
run  for  his  saddle.  He  fumbled  there  and  whirled 
with  Hungry  Joe's  great  revolver  in  his  hand.  Luis 
glanced  from  side  to  side,  as  if  for  shelter;  then  poised, 
knife  in  hand,  his  upper  lip  drawn  back  exposing  his 
white  teeth  in  a  ferocious  snarl.  He  was  not  going  to 
beg,  not  Luis. 

"  You  kick  my  dog ;  now  I  shoot  your  heart  out,'* 
bellowed  Gus.  His  face  was  inflamed,  his  blue  eyes, 
ordinarily  so  placid,  blazed. 

Vainly  Mr.  Simms  shouted;  vainly  shouted  Chet; 
Hombre  danced;  he  picked  up  a  piece  of  rail,  and  with 
swift  motion  circled  behind,  like  a  panther.  Murder 
was  in  his  eyes  also,  for  he  was  the  champion  of  Luis. 
Up  rose  the  revolver.  Gus  squinted  over  the  long 
barrel ;  but  he  was  just  pressing  the  trigger  when  Phil 
flung  himself  upon  him.  He  never  gave  a  thought  to 
himself,  did  Phil;  the  act  was  so  involuntary,  as  if  he 
were  making  a  football  tackle.  His  only  thought  was, 
that  murder  might  be  committed,  and  that  he  must 
beat  that  shot  which  was  forthcoming. 

Hombre,  wild  with  rage  for  his  friend  Luis,  had 
swung  aloft  his  stake,  with  a  hiss;  he  brought  it  down, 
the  report  of  the  revolver  rang  out,  but  stake  and 
revolver  both  missed  their  aim,  for  Phil's  rush  sent 


232  THE    CIRCLE    K 

Gus  staggering  backward  and  the  revolver  went  hurt- 
ling into  the  sage. 

With  a  snarl  Gus  sprang  forward.  One  thrust  of 
his  great  arms  flung  Phil  aside  like  a  mere  pillow; 
Luis,  crying  out,  also  sprang,  now,  knife  pointed 
dangerously;  Hombre  leaped  with  stake  again  uplifted. 
Chet's  frightened  voice  shrilled  high,  bidding  Phil 
keep  back.    But  Mr.  Simms  was  the  bulwark. 

"  Get  that  gun,  Chet !  "  he  ordered,  sharply ;  and  his 
spare  but  tall  and  muscular  form  interposed  between 
the  Swede  and  the  Indian.  Chet  darted  for  the  re- 
volver, in  the  sage,  and  grabbed  it. 

"  That's  enough,"  spoke  Mr.  Simms,  sternly,  to  the 
two  men.  **  I  won*t  have  any  fighting  in  this  outfit. 
You  can  quit  it,  or  you  can  take  your  time  and  get 
out." 

**  He  kick  my  dog,"  accused  Gus,  glowering. 

**  Well,  your  dog  was  killing  his,"  retorted  Mr. 
Simms. 

"  Good  riddance.  If  I  had  that  dog  I  shoot  him/* 
muttered  Gus. 

Luis,  bending  over  Bonita,  who  was  whining  and 
licking  his  hand,  turned  his  head  and  retorted,  under- 
tone, with  some  angry,  contemptuous  comment  in 
Spanish. 

Gus  now  walked  grumpily  aside,  and  examined 
Kitty,  who  was  still  whining  and  gasping.  He  felt 
of  her  ribs,  but  evidently  discovered  nothing  broken. 

*'  Give  me  that  gun,"  spoke  Mr.  Simms,  to  Chet. 
"  And  you  might  as  well  drop  that  stake,  Hombre. 
Now  you  two  men  get  on  your  hawsses  and  go  over 


WHEN   LAMBS   LOSE   THEIR    TAILS    2zz 

to  help  fetch  in  that  other  band,  as  I  told  you  to. 
And  you  can  be  thankful,  on  the  way,  that  this  boy 
prevented  likely  a  double  killing.  Now  we'll  all  quit 
this  foolishness  and  get  to  work.  I  don't  want  to  hear 
any  more  about  it." 

Saying  nothing,  Gus  caught  his  horse,  and  mounted. 
Hombre  did  likewise;  they  rode  off;  and  if  anybody 
feared  that  a  quarrel  would  arise  on  the  way,  nothing 
was  said.  Kitty,  only,  was  still  openly  pugnacious. 
With  a  growl  in  the  direction  of  Bonita  she  trotted 
after  Hombre  and  her  master. 

Mr.  Simms  unloaded  the  revolver,  pocketed  the  car- 
tridges and  tucked  the  weapon  itself  into  his  coat, 
which  hung  on  the  fence.  Luis  left  his  dog  licking  her 
wounds  (which  on  account  of  her  thick  coat  did  not 
amount  to  much),  and  followed  Mr.  Simms  to  the 
corral. 

**  You  shorely  were  just  in  time,"  remarked  Chet,  to 
Phil — with  a  note  of  honest  admiration  in  his  voice. 
"  He  would  have  killed  that  Luis  plumb  dead,  and  then 
Hombre  would  have  killed  him." 

"  Somebody  had  to  do  something,  mighty  quick," 
answered  Phil.  "  And  I  was  first  on  the  spot.  Won- 
der if  Gus  will  have  it  in  for  me,  now." 

"  Naw,"  said  Chet.  "  He'll  be  all  over  it  by  night. 
He  just  flared  up.  But  Luis  is  liable  not  to  forget. 
He's  an  Indian." 

And  Luis  didn't,  although  his  memory  took  a  differ- 
ent course  from  what  might  have  been  expected. 

The  work  of  marking  out  was  resumed.  The  re- 
mainder of  the  lambs  were  passed  up,  were  graduated 


234  :THE    CIRCLE    K 

into  sheep.  Many  really  did  not  seem  to  mind  the 
knife,  much.  They  made  no  sound;  and  it  occurred 
to  Phil  that  perhaps  they  were  not  afraid  of  pain,  and 
therefore  did  not  feel  it  so  keenly.  The  fear  of  pain 
is  the  worst  thing  about  it — like  fearing  the  dentist 
for  a  long  time,  and  then  knowing,  when  the  work  was 
over,  that  it  had  not  been  so  bad  after  all.  Many  of 
the  lambs,  as  said,  did  not  utter  a  sound  and  scarcely 
made  a  movement,  and  when  they  were  released  they 
presently  began  to  nibble  at  scanty  grass  and  brush,  in 
the  pen.  But  others  shrank  under  the  cut,  and  walked 
weakly  away,  when  released.  And  Phil  felt  sorry  for 
them  all.  He  was  glad  indeed  when  the  last  youngster 
had  been  handled,  and  there  were  no  more  in  that  band 
to  be  mutilated. 

Now  it  was  hot  mid-day.  The  marked  lambs'  pen 
adjoined  the  pen  where  the  older  sheep  were  confined; 
and  it  was  pitiful  to  see  the  ewes  sticking  their  noses 
between  the  rails,  baaing  for  their  children,  and  to 
see  the  children,  smarting  and  thirsty,  sticking  their 
noses  back,  to  be  licked  and  comforted.  But  not  yet 
were  the  families  to  be  reunited.  The  elders  were  to 
be  attended  to. 

So  all  the  ewes  and  the  wethers  were  driven  into  the 
shute  again,  and  Mr.  Simms  and  Luis  passed  along, 
scrutinizing  them,  sometimes  feeling  of  their  bodies, 
sometimes  opening  their  mouths  and  examining  their 
teeth. 

"  Dees  one,"  called  Luis.  And  bringing  over  the 
paint  pot,  with  a  stick  Mr.  Simms  daubed  a  straight 
line  across  the  sheep's  broad  haunches. 


WHEN    LAMBS    LOSE    THEIR    TAILS    235 

"  What's  that  for?  "  demanded  Phil. 

"  That's  what  we  call  '  barring/  We  bar  the  unfit 
sheep,  and  sell  them.  If  you  noticed,  her  teeth  were  no 
good.  She'll  go  in  to  market  as  mutton — and  I  pity 
the  man  or  woman  w^ho  tries  to  eat  her.  It  will  take 
better  teeth  than  she's  got,"  asserted  Mr.  Simms. 

Each  sheep  looked  up  imploringly,  as  inspected. 

"  T'ree,  is  all,"  announced  Luis. 

Mr.  Simms  recorded  the  number  of  the  unfit  and 
barred  upon  an  envelope. 

"  Let  'em  go,"  he  bade,  to  Chet,  who  was  at  the  exit 
end  of  the  shute.  The  gate  was  swung,  and  out  went 
the  sheep.  They  kicked  up  their  heels  as  they  filed  into 
the  open,  and  several  blatted  with  glee. 

""  They  know,"  observed  Mr.  Simms.  "  They  know 
they're  through  with  this  bother.  A  year-old  ewe  or 
wether  understands  the  shute  perfectly/' 

When  the  sheep  all  had  been  passed  and  had  been 
released,  the  gate  of  the  lambs'  pen  also  was  swung. 
The  lambs  edged  forward,  the  mothers  edged  in.  A 
tumult  of  baas  arose.  Little  f ellow^s  sought  frantically 
here  and  there;  were  repulsed,  were  welcomed,  as  the 
case  might  be.  The  lucky  ones  immediately  began  to 
drink;  the  others  cried  loudly  and  nosed  and  were 
nosed,  until  the  very  last  baby  had  found  his  mammy. 
Mothers  comforted  by  licking  and  nuzzling,  children 
thirstily  gobbled  warm  milk;  and  not  the  very  sorest 
of  the  urchins  was  neglected.  The  spectable  was  so 
human  as  to  be  pathetic.  Phil,  for  one,  was  heartily 
relieved  and  amused. 

**  I  know  what,  now,"  exclaimed  Chet. 


236  THE    CIRCLE    K 

In  the  lambs'  pen,  along  the  fence  where  the  knife 
had  been  wielded,  he  began  to  gather  up  the  tails. 

''  What  you  doing? ''  asked  Phil. 

"  Going  to  count  'em.     Come  on." 

Odd  to  the  touch  were  those  neglected,  lifeless  tails 
— so  limp  and  dangly;  not  unlike  large,  fuzzy,  torpid 
worms  they  seemed.  They  were  piled  into  a  heap,  and 
counted. 

"  How  many?  "  queried  Mr.  Simms. 

"  Two  hundred  and  sixty-one,  I  have,"  answered 
Phil. 

"  Two  hundred  seventy,  here,"  answered  Chet. 

"  And  there  were  five  hundred  forty  ewes,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Simms.  He  figured,  on  the  envelope. 
"  That's  just  a  little  over  ninety-eight  per  cent  of 
lambs.    Good  enough !  " 

"  I  said  we  would  beat  that  Indian's  band,"  com- 
mented Gus,  later,  when  told.  "  He  iss  no  good ;  he 
or  his  dog." 

So  jealous  was  this  Gus,  of  any  rival  to  Kitty. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


THE  RIDER  OF  THE  FLOCK 


All  together,  the  lambs  numbered  a  fraction  over 
three  thousand ;  so  that,  the  barred  or  unfit  sheep  hav- 
ing been  driven  by  Mr.  Simms  and  Gus  to  the  railroad, 
for  shipping,  the  flock  of  the  Circle  K  now  boasted 
eight  thousand  and  more,  for  trailing  to  the  summer 
range. 

From  the  railroad  Gus  came  not  back !  This  was  a 
surprise  to  the  boys.  He  had  said  not  a  word  of  leav- 
ing, but  in  his  characteristic,  stolid  way  had  ridden  off 
with  Mr.  Simms,  and  thence  had  proceeded  on  his 
way,  bound  for  Wyoming.  That  was  just  like  Gus; 
he  was  no  great  talker,  but  he  had  silent  determina- 
tion, nurtured  by  many  lonely  months  amidst  the  brush 
where  he  alone  was  master. 

"  He  thinks  of  going  into  sheep  on  his  own  account. 
He  has  a  little  bunch,  already — he  and  a  partner — up 
in  Wyoming,"  explained  Mr.  Simms,  quietly.  "  And 
I  was  about  to  let  him  out,  anyhow.  We  don't  need 
so  many  men,  now,  after  lambing.  You  boys  can  take 
the  band.    He  left  you  his  hook,  he  said." 

"  We'll  be  plumb  herders,  then,  with  a  band  of  our 
own  ?  "  asked  Chet. 

"  Sure  enough  herders,"  responded  his  father.  "  I 
reckon  you  can  manage  by  this  time." 

237 


21,^  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"  I  reckon  we  can,"  swaggered  Chet. 

''Shore,"  supplemented  Phil.  ''We'll  take  turns 
carrying  the  hook.  Or  you  can  have  it,  if  you  want 
it." 

And  it  did  fall  to  Chet,  for  Phil  came  in  for  some- 
thing else.  Luis  was  the  next  to  leave — discharged  as 
an  extra.  He,  too,  rode  silently,  stolidly  away — and 
the  boys  knew  nothing  of  it  until  Hombre  came  over, 
one  noon,  with  Bonita. 

"  Luis,  he  say  for  Meester  Phil  to  tek  Bonita,"  he 
announced,  happily.  "  Luis  muy  fine  man.  He  t'ink 
Meester  Pheel  save  hees  life  that  time,  an'  mebbe  save 
Bonita's  life  too." 

"  But  where  is  Luis  ?  "  asked  Phil,  astonished. 

"  He  not  here  any  more.  Gone  back  to  Californy. 
But  it  too  far  to  tek  Bonita.  She  stay  with  you,  I 
guess.  You  want  her?  Muy  fine  dog.  Not  mean 
dog  like  that  Swede  dog.  Luis,  he  know  her  father  an' 
her  mother.  Dey  all  Spanish  dogs — Pyr'nees  dogs. 
Been  in  Californy  one  hundred  years;  mebbe  more. 
You  want  her?" 

Hombre  put  the  query  anxiously,  and  Phil  was  quick 
to  answer. 

"  Want  her !  I  should  say  so !  Here,  Bonita,  old 
doggie.  Here,  old  girl."  She  pricked  her  ears,  and 
gazed  at  him  with  her  soft,  bright  brown  eyes.  He 
knelt  and  put  his  arms  about  her  neck.  He  had  not 
been  permitted  to  pet  Kitty,  but  this  was  his  dog,  and 
he  could  pet  her  as  much  as  he  chose.  She  pressed 
her  head  against  his  breast,  and  licked  his  hand.  Then 
she  licked  his  face.    Phil  was  overjoyed.    Ever  since 


THE    RIDER    OF    THE   FLOCK        239 

he  had  touched  Kitty  and  had  watched  her  graceful, 
knowing  ways,  the  desire  of  his  heart  had  been  to  have 
a  dog  her  equal. 

"  H  you  don't  want  her,  I'll  take  her,"  advised  Chet, 
enviously. 

"  You  can  have  the  hook,"  laughed  Phil.  "  But  TU 
let  you  pet  her.    I  won't  be  like  Gus." 

*'  Bueno,"  quoth  Hombre,  delighted.  "  She  your 
dog.  Bonita — that  mean  what  you  call '  nice,'  *  pretty,' 
'  good  little  one.'  She  muy  fine  dog.  What  you  call 
'  lady  dog.'  Now  I  go  back.  You  stay  with  Meester 
Pheel,  Bonita.  He  your  pardner.  Not  Luis;  Pheel. 
Adios.  I  see  you  all  again.  Pret'  soon  we  go  up  in 
Ptarmigan  Flats.     To-morrow,  mebbe." 

"  I  ought  to  thank  Luis,"  called  after  him  Phil. 
"Where  is  he?" 

"  Sometime.  But  he  say  you  save  hees  life.  He 
cannot  tek  Bonita.  You  have  her.  She  stay."  And 
Hombre  galloped  madly  away,  for  his  camp. 

Bonita  gazed  puzzledly  after  him. 

"Here,"  said  Phil;  and  with  lowered  ears  and  de- 
mure expression  upon  her  sharp-nosed  countenance, 
she  turned  and  followed  her  new  master. 

A  beautiful  dog  was  Bonita:  long-haired,  black 
as  to  body  and  bushy,  flowing  tail,  but  white  collared 
and  white  chested  and  with  two  white  feet.  Her  legs 
were  so  slim  and  she  trotted  so  daintily  and  lightly 
that  she  seemed  scarcely  to  press  the  grass.  She  was 
thoroughly  an  aristocrat.  From  that  moment  she 
stuck  close  to  Phil,  obeyed  his  every  word  and  gesture, 
and  although  she  recognized  Chet  as  a  friend  she  did 


240  THE    CIRCLE    K 

not  recognize  him  as  being  in  an  authority.  And  as  he 
did  not  try  to  interfere  and  boss,  and  accepted  the  hook 
as  his  share  of  herdership,  the  camp  got  along  very 
nicely. 

The  strange  thing  was,  that  Bonita  appeared  to  un- 
derstand English  as  thoroughly  as  she  understood 
Spanish— which  was  the  language  of  her  former 
master  Luis.  This  proved  that  she  was  a  dog  extra- 
ordinary. 

After  the  initiation  of  the  lambs  at  the  corral  when 
they  were  made  full-fledged  members  of  the  Circle  K, 
the  camps  remained  almost  within  hailing  distance  of 
one  another,  while  the  youngsters  recovered  from  the 
ordeal.  Bonita  could  now  be  used,  for  the  old  sheep 
M^ere  no  longer  skittish  with  the  arrival  of  the  new 
babies,  and  the  babies  themselves  were  becoming  big 
boys  and  girls.  Phil  and  Chet  had  no  difficulty  in 
turning  their  charges  out  in  the  morning,  and  in 
gathering  them  at  evening.  Phil  directed  Bonita,  and 
Chet  waved  his  hook.  They  both  cooked,  as  happened. 
In  their  overalls  and  rusty  boots  (Gus  had  worn 
brogans,  but  he  had  worn  them  off  when  he  went), 
their  trudging  and  their  cooking,  they  were  graduate 
herders.  They  were  responsible  for  some  three  thou- 
sand sheep  and  lambs — and  they  liked  it  better  than 
when  Gus  was  around. 

But  within  a  few  days  after  the  departure  of  Gus 
and  Luis,  from  headquarters  issued  orders  to  take  the 
trail  for  the  high  country  and  the  summer  range. 
The  bands  were  re-divided,  after  a  fashion,  so  as  to 
make  them  more  equal.    Chet  and  Phil,  with  Bonita, 


THE    RIDER    OF    THE   FLOCK        241 

were  over  one  band;  Hombre  and  Ford  were  over  an- 
other; and  Hombre  was  the  herder  over  the  third. 
But  he  was  equal  to  any  two  ordinary  men,  for  he  was 
a  Mexican,  and  a  mighty  good  Mexican,  and  he  "  knew 
sheep."     Clever  indeed  was  Hombre. 

Early  in  the  morning  Old  Jess  made  the  rounds, 
packing  the  camp  outfits  on  his  burros;  he  and  Mr. 
Simms  struck  out,  ahead;  and  the  three  bands,  three 
thousand  strong,  each,  followed,  their  herders  mounted, 
making  for  the  great  hills,  and  Ptarmigan  Flats, 
thirteen  thousand  feet  up. 

So  they  marched:  veteran  Mr.  Simms  and  veteran 
Old  Jess,  with  the  burro  train,  in  the  advance ;  Hom- 
bre and  his  blatting  woolly  band,  the  boys  and  their 
blatting  woolly  band.  Ford  and  Haney  the  Texan  and 
their  blatting  woolly  band,  following,  at  intervals, 
making  a  procesion  half  a  mile  long,  winding  through 
the  draws  and  ever  climbing.  And  ahead  misty  and 
mysterious,  opening  upon  the  view  and  closed  off 
again,  waited  Ptarmigan  Flats. 

On  Pepper  and  Medicine  Eye,  with  Bonita  trotting 
soberly  in  their  wake,  or  occasionally  chasing  aside 
to  investigate  gopher  or  bird,  the  boys  were  very  con- 
tent.   The  saddle  felt  good. 

Higher  and  higher  ascended  the  untrodden  way. 
The  grazing  country  for  ordinary  herds  was  left  far 
behind,  and  a  mining  country  was  entered.  Prospect 
holes  were  to  be  seen,  in  the  sides  of  the  rocky  slopes 
— holes  that  resembled  big  ant  holes,  with  the  dirt 
taken  out  and  piled  at  their  mouth.  Several  deserted 
and  ruinous  mills  were  passed,  and  wandering  pros- 


■2^2  THE    CIRCLE    K 

pectors,  afoot,  or  ahorse,  and  driving  their  burros, 
were  met.  The  streams  were  icy  cold,  the  sage  brush 
low,  herbage  was  a  brighter  green,  aspens  were 
leaving  out  as  in  spring,  and  flowers  which  had 
withered  on  the  lower  levels  were  here  just  bursting 
into  bloom.  Looking  behind,  the  boys  could  see  their 
nine  thousand  feet  lambing-range,  which  once  had  been 
deemed  so  elevated,  reduced  to  a  hazy  patch  far  down. 

The  third  evening  out  camp  was  located  in  a  wide 
but  rocky  draw,  with  the  boys'  tent  pitched  at  the  foot 
of  a  steep  wall — the  base  of  a  mountain  which  towered, 
pine  clad  and  frowning,  still  two  thousand  feet  above. 
All  about  were  other  frowning,  heavily  timbered 
giants,  their  stern  crests  bare  and  jagged,  brown  and 
yellow  with  fires  extinguished  a  million  and  more 
years  ago.  It  was  a  wild  scene.  Beyond  the  tent,  and 
glimmering  whitish  in  the  gloam,  were  the  tents  of 
Hombre,  and  Ford  and  Haney,  and  Mr.  Simms  and 
Old  Jess,  erected  in  likely  spots  where  were  wood  and 
water,  and  proper  bedding-ground  for  the  sheep. 

The  dusk  had  settled  quickly,  this  evening,  for  the 
west  was  thick  with  black  clouds,  as  if  a  storm  was 
rising.  Far  and  musical  could  be  heard  the  tinkle- 
tinkle  of  the  bell-wethers,  leaders  in  the  other  bands, 
as  Hombre  and  as  Haney  and  Ford  were  making  their 
nightly  gather.  Phil,  with  Bonita,  and  Chet,  with 
his  hook,  started  on  their  circuit,  to  complete  their  own 
gather  ere  they  should  feed  and  house  themselves. 
For  this  was  the  part  of  the  good  and  efficient  herder : 
to  attend  to  his  flock  and  establish  them  safe  for  the 
night,  regardless  of  his  personal  comforts.     On  the 


THE    RIDER    OF   THE   FLOCK        243 

trail  there  could  be  no  dirt-hard  and  salt-baited  bed- 
ding-ground; but  it  was  the  herder's  duty  to  inspect 
his  band,  at  the  close  of  each  day,  and  to  know  the 
whereabouts  of  every  sheep  before  he  himself  ate  or 
slept. 

Already  Pepper  and  Medicine  Eye  were  hobbled 
and  grazing.  Through  the  gloom  Phil  with  Bonita 
trudged  in  the  one  direction,  Chet  with  his  hook  in 
another.  The  sage  brush  had  been  succeeded  by  the 
stiff  buck-brush,  dear  to  sheep,  and  this  was  mingled 
with  boulders  and  rock-masses;  stunted  cedars,  their 
tops  forced  flat  by  persistent  winds  of  winter  and  by 
the  heavy  snows,  grew  here  and  there  in  clumps. 
Even  in  the  brief  period  while  the  tent  had  been 
pitched,  and  the  horses  turned  loose,  the  sheep  had 
strayed,  sillily  seeking  the  better  forage  which  they 
ever  anticipated  grew  a  little  higher  or  a  little  farther 
on. 

"  Around.  Way  'round,  Bonita ! "  commanded 
Phil,  with  a  wave  of  his  arm;  and  Bonita,  needing  not 
another  word,  loped  off,  ahead,  to  circle  and  turn. 
She  could  cover  the  higher  ground,  w^hile  Phil  and 
Chet  covered  the  lower  where  climbing  was  not  re- 
quired. And  presently  the  sheep  came  pouring  down, 
with  her  barking  behind.  The  sheep  turned  by  the 
boys  joined  them,  and  in  a  mass  they  all  went  obedi- 
ently trotting  and  noisily  baaing,  for  the  open  pastur- 
age where  they  should  spend  the  night. 

But  to  Phil's  ear  and  eye  alike  there  was  some- 
thing odd  about  the  band's  behavior.  The  center  of 
the  mass  swarled  and  eddied,  in  a  confusion,  and* the 


244  THE    CIRCLE    K 

sheep  voices  that  lifted  were  discordant  and  fright- 
ened. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  'em,  I  wonder,"  called 
Chet,  across.     "  They're  acting  queer." 

He,  too,  had  noticed. 

"  So's  Bonita !  "  answered  Phil,  suddenly. 

For  her  bark  had  become,  like  the  sheep  voices,  ex- 
cited— but  it  held  a  new  element :  that  of  defiance  and 
rage.  She  was  madly  racing  from  side  to  side,  some- 
times leaping  high  into  the  air,  as  if  trying  to  sight 
something  obscure;  and  that  something  seemed  to  be 
among  the  sheep ! 

Phil  peered  for  the  intruder;  another  dog,  perhaps, 
or  a  strange  sheep,  possibly  a  wild  one,  may  have 
entered  the  band.  Chet's  cry  pealed  alarmed  and  com- 
pelling: 

"I  see  it!  Something's  on  the  back  of  a  sheep! 
Clear  in  the  middle  of  the  herd !  " 

The  mass  of  the  sheep  was  dim  and  confused,  in 
the  dusk ;  and  stooping  Phil  sought  to  bring  the  backs 
against  the  sky-line.  And  sure  enough,  there  in  the 
midst  of  the  band  a  dark  hump  broke  the  general  plane 
of  lifted  heads  and  shaggy  rumps.  About  this  hump 
the  sheep  were  milling  and  recoiling,  voice  and  action 
showing  great  dismay.  It  was  like  to  rock  upon  which 
a  current  eddied  and  broke. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Do  you  see  it?" 

"Yes.    What  is  it?" 

Another  dark  shape  broke  the  plane  of  backs — but 
it  was  Bonita,  darting  in,  weaving  here  and  there  and 


THE    RIDER    OF   THE    FLOCK        245 

leaping  high  to  make  her  course.  She  was  not  uttering 
a  sound. 

*'  Bonita!  look  out!  "  called  Phil. 

"  Come  on/'  bade  Chet. 

They  too  ran  in,  dodging  and  leaping,  sending  the 
affrighted  sheep  right  and  left. 

"  I  know !  It's  a  lynx !  "  exclaimed  Chet,  who  was 
on  the  shorter  course.     "  Jiminy,  but  it's  a  big  one !  " 

Scurrying  and  baaing,  the  sheep  had  entered  more 
into  the  open,  free  of  the  gnarled,  stunted  cedars  and 
the  boulders,  and  where  the  last  twilight  reached  from 
a  gap  amidst  the  great  battlements  to  the  west.  The 
dark  hump  was  thrown  into  momentary  high  relief — 
and  the  boys  could  see  it  plainly  limned:  a  huge 
furry  cat,  large  as  any  water  spaniel,  riding  the  flock. 
There  it  sat,  crouched  with  cruel  tight  grip  of  claws 
and  legs  upon  the  foreshoulders  of  a  sheep,  it  and  its 
hapless  steed  occupying  a  clear  little  spot  all  their 
own.  No  sheep  would  help  another  sheep,  and  the 
great  lynx  rode  on.  It  must  have  sprung  from  out 
from  a  cedar  clump,  as  the  animals  passed. 

But  although  the  other  sheep  had  left  their  comrade 
to  stagger  along  with  its  dreadful  burden  until  it 
died,  Bonita,  the  dog,  was  of  temper  very  different. 
Scarcely  had  the  lynx  raised  its  round,  tufted-eared 
head,  its  green  eyes  glinting  balefully,  to  snarl  de- 
fiance at  the  two  boys,  when  like  a  big  black  ball  the 
form  of  Bonita  bounded  into  the  little  cleared  space. 
At  that  instant  the  poor  sheep  fell;  it  had  borne  its 
hard  rider  as  far  as  it  could.  But  the  lynx  stayed  on 
top;  and  still  seated  in  the  saddle,  as  it  were,  squat- 


246  :THE    CIRCLE    K 

ting  close,  with  flattened  ears  and  low  head  snarled 
viciously  from  the  body  of  its  victim. 

"Bonita!  Here,  Bonita!  Get  out  of  there!" 
called  both  boys,  in  alarm. 

Half  circling,  with  a  tremendous  leap  into  the  air 
Bonita,  uttering  only  a  whine,  charged.  There  was  a 
fearful  catawauling,  mingled  with  growls;  upon  the 
sheep  two  figures,  closely  joined,  swayed  and  struggled ; 
and  suddenly  with  a  yelp  of  pain  and  anger  out  shot 
Bonita,  head  over  heels,  as  by  a  single  resistless  kick. 
The  cat's  powerful  hind  legs  must  have  ripped  into 
her  hide  and  flung  her  away  just  as  she  jerked  loose. 
For  the  lynx,  like  any  cat,  fights  by  seizing  with  its 
fore  legs,  biting,  and  kicking  with  its  hind  legs. 

Chet  exclaimed.  He  dashed  forward.  So  did 
Phil. 

"  Bonita !  "  they  called,  frantically.    "  Come  away !  " 

"  She'll  shore  be  killed !  "  cried  Chet.  "  That's  no 
bob-cat.  That's  a  lynx — a  regular  big  lynx.  It'll 
kill  any  dog." 

Bonita  sat,  a  moment,  whining.  But  as  if  en- 
couraged by  the  reckless  approach  of  the  two  boys  she 
swiftly  circled  again — while  on  its  spoil,  in  the  center, 
growling  and  spitting,  the  lynx  constantly  faced  her. 
It  certainly  was  a  fearsome  looking  beast ;  it  was  almost 
a  demon  in  its  fierce  rage  and  defiance.  Its  green  eyes 
glowed  like  incandescent  lamps,  and  all  its  thick  fur 
stood  out  until  it  was  swollen  like  a  prickly  porcupine 
gone  mad.  A  man,  let  alone  a  dog,  might  well  have 
hesitated  attacking  such  a  creature. 

But  with  another  high  leap  Bonita   was  upon   it 


THE    RIDER    OF    THE    FLOCK        247 

again.  The  cat  half  rose  to  meet  her.  There  was  an- 
other tremendous  caterwauling  and  growling.  Phil 
rushed  forward.  Chet  rushed  forward.  The  two  ani- 
mals rolled  off  the  sheep  carcass,  and  continued  to 
struggle  violently  along  the  ground.  Bonita  seemed 
to  have  the  cat  by  the  neck,  but  with  a  mighty  writhe 
it  turned  under  her  and  with  one  stout  forepaw  clutch- 
ing her  by  the  head  ripped  again  and  again  along 
her  stomach  with  its  powerful  hind  quarters.  Phil 
would  have  rushed  in  with  only  his  hands;  but  Chet 
warned  hotly. 

"Look  out!  Wait."  And  he  circled  eagerly  with 
hook  upraised. 

Whining  and  wincing  from  the  keen  punishment 
Bonita  struggled  to  free  herself,  and  to  swing  about 
so  as  to  clear  those  murderous,  ripping  claws.  With 
a  heave  she  wrenched  away,  but  retained  her  neck 
hold,  hanging  on  and  worrying  as  a  terrier  would  a 
rat.  She  dared  not  let  go.  But  the  cat  clung,  too,  so 
that  the  wrench  dragged  it  half  over  and  exposed  its 
back.  Phil  danced  imploringly,  for  it  seemed  that 
Bonita  was  going  to  be  killed.  Down  like  lightning 
descended  Chet's  hook,  landing  squarely  across  the 
lynx's  arched  spine,  inflicting  a  stunning  blow.  The 
staff  broke  sharply  in  two.  With  a  startled  yowl  the 
big  cat  straightened  out,  limp.  Chet  grunted  exult- 
antly and  raised  his  club  again.  Bonita  whined 
eagerly,  and  suddenly  would  shift  her  hold  to  another 
and  more  deadly  one,  but  Phil  had  her  by  the  collar 
and  hauled  her  backward.  For  the  lynx  was  not  past 
danger;   not   yet.     That  blow  upon  the   spine   had 


248  THE    CIRCLE    K 

stunned  but  had  not  disabled.  Now  those  strong  hind 
quarters  began  to  thresh  and  kick  vigorously,  the 
head  lifted  and  grasped  at  nothing,  the  open  mouth 
flashed  long,  white  fangs,  but  down  swooped  Chet's 
club,  smiting  the  round  head.  The  lynx,  stricken 
sorely  again,  stiffened  and  quivered,  and  struggling 
more  and  more  feebly  as  Chet  belabored  it,  died  there 
beside  the  body  of  the  sheep. 

Phil  released  Bonita,  and  she  had  a  splendid  few 
moments  worrying  her  defenceless  enemy. 

The  boys  stood  over  the  stretched  body  of  the  lynx, 
and  in  the  dimness  eyed  it.  Hideous  it  was  in  death, 
as  it  had  been  fearsome  in  life.  It  was  a  compact, 
thick-bodied  animal,  blue-gray  in  color,  with  lighter 
chest;  its  tail  was  short  and  stubby,  its  head  round, 
its  ears  were  surmounted  with  a  distinct  tuft  or 
tassel,  its  fur  was  so  long  as  almost  to  make  a  ruff 
about  the  neck.  But  what  particularly  was  to  be 
noted  were  the  large,  furred  paws,  armed  with  tre- 
mendous claws;  and  the  terrifically  long,  strong  hind 
legs. 

"  It's  shore  a  regular  Canada  lynx,"  declared  Chet. 
**  I  never  did  see  one  before." 

"  I  never  did,  except  in  a  menagerie,"  said  Phil. 
''Here,  Bonita.  Did  it  scratch  you  up  very  bad? 
Brave  doggie ! " 

They  examined  Bonita's  wounds.  Her  thick  hair 
had  saved  her  considerably,  but  the  cat's  claws  had 
digged  through,  just  the  same,  and  had  fairly  ploughed 
the  hide  open  in  long  red  furrows  adown  her  stomach 
and  across  her  ribs.     Her  neck  and  ears,  too,  were 


THE    RIDER    OF    THE    FLOCK        249 

bleeding.  But  she  was  a  good  dog  yet,  and  ready, 
evidently,  for  another  tussle. 

Chet  patted  her  approvingly. 

"  Not  many  dogs  would  tackle  a  lynx,"  he  praised. 

"  You  broke  your  hook,"  reminded  Phil. 

"Well,  W'e  had  to  do  something,"  responded  Chet. 

It  was  dark;  during  the  combat  the  sheep  had  scat- 
tered widely  again,  and  leaving  the  lynx  and  the 
wether  with  torn  throat,  its  victim,  they  and  Bonita 
must  set  to  work  and  make  another  gather.  They 
let  the  lynx  lie,  until  morning.  Twace  ere  they  settled 
to  sleep  Bonita  trotted  out  of  the  tent  to  make  certain 
that  all  was  well.  As  she  came  in  after  each  time  with 
fresh  blood  on  her  lips,  she  must  have  visited  the  dead 
cat  and  mouthed  it  a  little  more,  as  further  notice  not 
to  stir. 

In  the  morning  the  news  was  spread;  and  dangling 
from  a  spruce  the  arch-enemy  of  the  sheep  was  viewed 
with  wonder  by  the  rest  of  the  Circle  K,  ere  the  day's 
drive  was  begun. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A   MEETING  ON    PTARMIGAN   FLATS 

The  country  of  Ptarmigan  Flats  lay  at  the  top  of 
the  roof  of  the  world.  Here  began  streams,  trickling 
as  rivulets  from  the  snowbanks  of  August,  and  a 
mile  and  more  below  becoming  rushing  rivers ;  here  the 
patches  of  drifts  never  disappeared ;  here  flowers  grew 
and  grasses  were  sweet  and  green,  or  else  everything 
was  brown  and  frozen  or  covered  with  snow,  for  it 
never  was  summer.  It  was  spring,  or  winter — May 
or  December.  Hail  and  sleet  drove  across  the  flowers 
and  the  grasses,  from  June  to  November,  and  from 
November  to  June  there  were  many  snows.  A  wide, 
open,  rolling  region  it  was,  close  to  the  light-blue  sky 
and  to  the  scudding  clouds ;  windy  and  calm  by  turns, 
with  boggy  vales  and  great  fields  of  slide-rock,  hedged 
by  jagged  battlements  rising  bare  and  sharp  all  about, 
bathed  in  the  warm  sunshine  and  the  thin-crisp  air 
by  day,  and  frosted  every  night,  and  very  lonely  save 
for  the  yearly  visits  of  the  sheep. 

Pines  and  cedars  had  been  left  behind,  in  the  final 
climb;  and  in  this  thirteen  thousand  feet  region  grew 
only  some  willows  and  aspens,  and  a  very  few  sprawl- 
ing cedars  not  higher  than  a  man.  The  bands  of  the 
Circle  K  were  located  right  on  a  pass — right  on  a 
broad,  gently  rolling  swell  of  turf  and  rock  which 

250 


A    MEETING   ON    PTARMIGAN    FLATS    251 

formed  an  easy  route  from  western  slope  to  eastern 
slope  of  the  highest  Rockies.  In  fact,  it  was  really  an 
ancient  crater,  and  the  tent  of  Phil  and  Chet  was 
pitched  beside  an  icy  stream,  amidst  some  willows, 
upon  a  site  of  now  forgotten  fires.  For  around  about 
extended  a  clear  rim  of  rock,  five  hundred  feet  high, 
broken  down  and  crumbled  in  many  places,  and 
colored  red  and  purple  and  yellow  and  brown.  Under- 
foot, as  the  boys  trudged  about,  were  masses  of  yel- 
lowish ash  packed  like  clay,  and  quantities  of  black 
slag.  Below  the  tent,  beside  a  burro  trail  leading 
across  the  pass,  was  a  small  pile  of  rock,  surmounted 
by  a  stake  crowned  with  a  ram's  skull.  And  a  round 
brass  plate,  riveted  into  a  boulder,  read,  in  a  circle 
like  a  seal : 

12866  ft.  U.  S.  Geol.  Survey. 

So  there  was  no  doubt  about  the  height. 

This  was  only  sheep  country,  and  from  the  first 
week  of  July  until  the  last  week  of  September  this 
air  was  melodious  with  bleatings  and  tinkling  of  bells. 
Then,  might  it  be  supposed.  Ptarmigan  Flats  was  glad 
of  the  company,  for  other  guests  it  had  none,  except 
the  eagle  and  the  buzzard,  in  the  sky,  in  the  rocks  the 
big-eared  coney  storing  away  straw,  and  in  the  timber 
and  brush  the  bear  and  the  cat  and  the  coyote.  Oc- 
casionally a  forest-ranger  rode  through,  bound  from 
point  to  point. 

The  Circle  K  sheep  were  permitted  to  stray  almost 
as  they  pleased,  during  the  day,  and  at  night  were 


252  THE    CIRCLE    K 

only  loosely  herded.  The  Circle  K  tents  were  all 
within  a  radius  of  a  mile,  so  that  there  was  visiting 
back  and  forth.  Mr.  Simms  and  Old  Jess  estab- 
lished headquarters,  and  periodically  made  trips  down 
to  the  lower  country,  and  to  town,  for  supplies. 

Around  about  were  other  outfits,  also.  The 
Box  proved  to  be  across  the  crater  rim,  on  the  east. 
Mr.  Adams  came  riding  over,  one  day,  and  the  bul- 
let-headed foreman  passed  through,  another  day. 
Further  along  was  a  third  outfit,  of  which  the  herders 
all  were  Mexicans.    Hombre  was  delighted. 

Yes,  it  was  a  fine  country  for  sheep.  The  Circle  K 
lambs,  the  loss  of  their  tails  forgotten,  waxed  big  and 
fat ;  for  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  eat  and  sleep. 

Bonita's  wounds  had  healed,  and  the  affair  of  the 
lynx  was  ancient  history,  when  one  morning  from 
his  seat  upon  a  rock,  overlooking  lazily  the  sheep 
which  grazed  along  the  crater  slope  before  him,  Phil 
descried,  topping  the  open  rise  which  marked  the 
pass,  and  evidently  following  the  burro  trail  that  led 
over  and  down  again,  a  string  of  horses  and  burros, 
like  a  pack-train.  Sitting  motionless,  observing,  herd- 
er-style, he  decided  that  it  was  a  camping  party. 
Whither  they  came  and  whither  they  were  going  he  did 
not  much  care;  this  was  a  big  country,  and  a  free 
country,  and  he  felt  a  fine  independence,  sitting  there 
upon  his  rock  like  a  prince  upon  his  dais.  It  was  his 
country,  his  and  the  sheep's. 

A  rider  detached  himself  from  the  file  and  came 
galloping  along.  Even  then  Phil  did  not  stand,  still 
deeming  it  beneath  his  dignity  as  a  sovereign  and  an 


A    MEETING   ON    PTARMIGAN    FLATS    253 

independent  unit  to  show  much  interest.  But  the 
rider  also  had  keen  eyes ;  evidently  he  was  a  Westerner, 
then;  for  he  swerved  and  directed  himself  straight 
toward  Phil.  He  was  lank  in  the  saddle  and  wore  a 
huge  flapping-brimmed  black  hat;  and  he  rode  well  at 
gallop,  trot  and  walk  alike. 

With  his  horse  picking  quick  way  through  the  low 
brush  and  across  the  rocks  he  came  on — until  Phil, 
who  had  been  staring  more  and  more  in  amazement, 
at  last  stood. 

**  Is  this  the  trail  to  Roaring  Pine  Forks?"  called 
the  rider,  as  he  drew  near. 

"  Don't  know,"  called  back  Phil,  with  a  shake  of 
his  head.    *'  Isn't  your  name  Pete?  " 

The  rider,  peering,  continued.  He  halted.  A  grin 
overspread  his  lean,  freckled  face,  and  swinging 
down  he  stuck  out  his  hand. 

''Well,  if  it  ain't  Smith-Jones!  What  you  doin 
here,  Smith-Jones  ?    Gone  into  sheep  ?  " 

He  was  Pete,  round-up  cook,  and  cook  on  the  New 
Mexican  drive.  Very  thin  and  lank  was  Pete,  with 
small,  shrewd,  freckled  face  and  keen  gray  Irish 
eyes.  His  specialty  was  that  great  flapping  hat,  and 
his  uniform  good  nature.  But  he  wouldn't  stand 
much  imposition,  and  he  was  always  ready  for  a 
fracas. 

"  Yes.  We're  all  here.  The  Bar  B's  the  Circle  K. 
There's  Chet,  watching  us.  Ford  and  Haney  are  over 
that  little  rise,  and  Hombre  and  Mr.  Simms  and  Old 
Jess  are  east  about  half  a  mile.  What  are  you 
doing?" 


254  THE    CIRCLE    K 

Pete  laughed  gleefully. 

"Me?  I'm  guide  an'  cook  both.  I'm  takin'  a 
party  through,  on  a  campin'  trip.  Who  you  think 
I  got  ?  " 

Phil  could  not  guess. 

"  You  know  'em.  They're  that  muley  professor 
we  found  last  summer,  an'  Cherry;  an'  then  I  got 
another  girl,  friend  o'  Cherry's." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Phil. 

Pete  nodded  triumphantly. 

"  Them's  shore  the  people.  Come  on  over.  They'll 
want  to  see  you.  But  where  does  this  trail  go? 
That's  what  I  rode  over  to  find  out." 

"  I  don't  know,  Pete.    It's  all  new  country  to  me." 

Pete  grunted  disgustedly,  and  wagged  his  big  hat. 

"  Never  did  meet  up  with  a  sheep-herder  who  knew 
anything  except  where  he'd  come  from  an'  where  he 
was  goin',"  he  complained.  "  But  I  reckon  now  you 
folks  are  here  my  party'll  want  to  camp  for  a  day  or 
so,  an'  by  that  time  I'll  learn  the  country  for  myself." 
With  some  conscious  importance,  as  guide  and  coun- 
selor, Pete  mounted.  "  Comin'  over?"  he  asked. 
"  Better." 

"  Yes,  sure,"  answered  Phil.  He  walked  along 
beside  Pete's  stirrup. 

"  That  yore  dog?  "  queried  Pete,  indicating  Bonita, 
who  followed  close  at  Phil's  heels. 

*'  Yes." 

"  Looks  as  though  she  might  be  a  good  one,"  ad- 
mitted Pete. 

"  Best  sheep  dog  in  the  country,"  declared  Phil. 


A    MEETING   ON    PTARMIGAN    FLATS    255 

*'  She  got  pretty  badly  clawed  up,  the  other  day. 
Tackled  a  lynx." 

"  That's  a  big  contract,  for  one  dog,"  said  Pete. 
"Kill  it?" 

"  No;  but  she  held  it  while  Chet  broke  his  hook  on 
it  and  stunned  it." 

"  Bueno,"  approved  Pete.  "  I  reckoned  she  must 
be  a  good  dog.  Some  o'  them  sheep  dogs  are  more 
human  than  some  folks.  In  my  private  opinion  I'd 
heap  rather  be  a  good  dog  than  a  bad  man." 

The  camping  party  and  the  pack  train  had  waited, 
on  the  top  of  the  rolling  pass,  while  Pete  had  ridden 
to  inquire  the  trail.  Phil  could  see  the  man  who  was 
the  professor,  and  the  tw^o  girls,  one  of  whom  w^as 
Cherry. 

*'  That's  Cherry,  on  the  boss,"  observed  Pete. 
"  Her  friend's  on  the  ground,  huntin'  for  things  to 
pick  an*  carry  off.  She's  the  wust  little  maverick  I 
ever  did  see,  for  a  tenderfoot.  Alluz  is  thinkin'  the 
West  is  '  so  romantic'  Even  when  one  o'  them  jacks 
brays,  it's  romantic.  Fm  romantic,"  and  Pete 
chuckled. 

Yes,  they  were  the  professor  and  Cherry,  all  right. 
They  evidently  did  not  recognize  him,  as  they  waited 
and  looked.  And  he  walked  in  upon  them — the  regu- 
lation sheep-herder  in  faded  blouse  and  overalls,  his 
sheep-dog  at  his  heels. 

Cherry's  face  brightened.  The  professor,  her 
father,  straightened  in  the  saddle  and  stared,  aston- 
ished. And  there  were  exclamations  and  shaking  of 
hands, 


256  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"  Is  Chet  here,  too  ?  And  my  daddle  ?  "  demanded 
Cherry,  much  excited,  her  cheeks  aflame.  She  was 
the  same  Cherry  of  old — quick  as  a  gopher  and  heartily 
enthusiastic.  The  professor,  her  father,  was  not  now 
wearing  the  skull-cap  which  had  given  him  his  horn- 
less or  "  muley-cow  "  appearance  when  found  sense- 
less after  the  stampede  last  summer;  he  was  wearing  a 
narrow-brimmed  little  round  "  crush  "  hat,  which  set 
jauntily  above  his  full-bearded  face. 

"  Yes,  they're  all  here.  There  comes  Chet  now," 
answered  Phil.    "  He  knows  something  is  up." 

Cherry  waved,  and  then  went  galloping  forward. 
The  girl  on  the  ground,  who  seemed  to  have  been  for- 
gotten, looked  bewildered.  She  uttered  a  little  cough, 
as  if  inviting  attention  to  the  fact  that  she  was  being 
omitted  in  the  general  greetings.  Phil  had  noted  her, 
politely,  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye.  She  was  a 
rather  pensive  but  pretty  girl,  with  light  hair  and  blue 
eyes.  It  was  an  awkward  situation,  for  the  professor 
smiled  blandly,  and  was  asking  questions,  totally 
oblivious  of  the  hitch  in  affairs;  and  of  course  Pete 
could  not  be  expected  to  make  introductions. 

However,  Cherry  could  be  depended  upon,  every 
time.  She  abruptly  had  wheeled  and  was  galloping 
madly  back  again,  without  having  met  Chet. 

"  Why,"  she  exclaimed,  out  of  breath,  and  much 
perturbed,  "  I  never  introduced  Molly !  And  I  know 
father  hasn't  thought.  Molly,  this  is  Phil.  You  know 
Phil  who  helped  rescue  me  from  those  men.  And  this 
is  my  best  girl  friend,  Molly  Gibson,  Phil.  She's 
from  Chicago,  like  you  are,  but  she  loves  the  West." 


A    MEETING   ON    PTARMIGAN    FLATS    257 

"  Yes.  It's  so  romantic,"  asserted  Miss  Molly. 
"  And  isn't  this  romantic — for  you  two  to  meet,  here 
in  the  wilds,  again." 

Phil  murmured  that  it  was,  and  put  on  his  hat, 
which  he  had  gallantly  removed,  battered  and  weather- 
beaten  though  it  was. 

Chet  arrived.  There  were  greetings  renewed, 
and  another  introduction.  He  blushed,  at  Cherry's 
praises;  and  Miss  Molly  was  once  more  impressed 
w^ith  the  romance  of  it  all. 

"  Chet's  father  is  my  other  father.  I  call  him 
daddie,  and  papa  is  father,'^  explained  Cherry. 

Phil  in  turn  introduced  Bonita.  They  all  made 
much  of  Bonita — all  except  the  burros  of  the  pack 
train. 

"  There's  another  friend  of  ourn  around  here,'*  an- 
nounced Pete.  "  The  sheriff  of  Blanco  county.  We 
met  up  wnth  him  back  a  ways — him  an'  that  Injun 
Charley.  They  were  on  a  trail,  I  reckon;  but  they 
didn't  say  who  or  where,  an'  we  didn't  ask  no  ques- 
tions." 

Chet  and  Phil  exchanged  a  quick  glance.  The  man 
with  the  limp  must  still  be  at  large — and  he  must  be 
headed  this  way,  or  else  prowling  about.  That  was 
bad;  bad  especially  because  now  here  was  Cherry, 
whom  he  had  stolen  twice,  and  whom  he  probably 
would  like  to  steal  again  if  only  for  meanness.  And  he 
surely  was  a  disagreeable  neighbor  to  have,  anyway. 
Outlaw  and  bad  man,  willing  to  risk  anything  for  his 
own  gain,  he  was  worse  than  hungry  coyote. 

But  it  was  just  as  well  that  Cherry  should  not  be 


258  THE    CIRCLE    K 

told  now  that  her  arch  enemy,  Joe,  the  man  with  the 
Hmp,  was  at  large.  It  would  make  her  little  visit  un- 
pleasant. However,  the  time  came  when  the  boys, 
and  the  others  of  the  Circle  K,  wished  that  they  had 
warned  the  party. 

The  camp  of  the  party  was  located  just  below  the 
camp  of  Phil  and  Chet;  and  before  nightfall  all  the 
Circle  K  had  called  or  had  been  called  upon.  Grizzled 
veteran  Mr.  Simms,  and  wrinkled,  stiffened  Old  Jess 
were  surprised  and  delighted  beyond  measure,  as 
Cherry  kissed  them  both;  for  she  was  their  child  by 
adoption.  Haney  the  Texan  reddened  redder  with  a 
pleased  "  Howdy?  "  and  Ford  of  Boston  and  Harvard 
was  brother  and  gentleman  in  one  as  he  shook  hands. 
That  night  a  central  camp-fire  was  made,  and  came 
riding  into  its  circle  of  light  the  sturdy  sheriff  of 
Blanco  county,  and  the  swart,  silent  Charley  the  Ute. 

They  unsaddled,  and  prepared  to  spend  the  night 
at  the  headquarters'  tent,  with  Mr.  Simms  and  Old 
Jess. 

The  moon,  now  waning  toward  its  last  quarter,  was 
just  emerging  over  the  jagged  battlements  in  the  east, 
and  was  sending  glamorous  beams  over  the  v/ild 
country  of  turf  and  rocks  and  ashes  and  crags,  beneath 
it,  when  with  Cherry  and  Miss  Molly,  and  the  profes- 
sor and  Pete,  the  two  boys  rode  back  to  the  twain 
camps.    Like  a  wolf  Bonita  trotted  behind. 

"  So  romantic !  "  sighed  Miss  Molly. 

"What  is,  now?"  demanded  Cherry,  briskly. 

"  This  night,  and  everybody,  and — and  everything 
out  in  the  West;"  declared  Miss  Molly,  rapturously. 


A    MEETING   ON    PTARMIGAN    FLATS    259 

"  Oh,  I  should  just  love  to  be  one  of  you  boys,  and 
live  this  v^ay — 'tending  the  lowing  sheep  daytimes, 
and  basking  around  the  blazing  camp-fire  nights,  while 
the  wolf  howls  and  the  bear  growls  and  the  wind 
sings  to  the  pines." 

*'  That  sounds  like  what  you  read  about,"  blurted 
Chet.  "But  it's  not  all  a  picnic,  is  it,  Phil!  Wait 
till  you've  had  to  chase  sheep  all  day,  in  the  snow  or 
rain,  and  eat  when  you  can,  and  get  your  own  supper 
after  dark,  and  go  to  bed  in  your  wet  clothes  and  get 
up  before  sunrise  and  start  at  it  again,  and  you 
wouldn't  see  much  romance,  I  guess." 

"Yes,"  agreed  Phil.  "It's  like  the  cowboy  life 
you  read  about.  Sounds  like  play  till  you  try  it,  and 
then  it's  mighty  hard  work." 

"  You  bet  yuh !  "  chimed  in  Pete,  wagging  his  big 
hat.  "  Same  with  cookin'  for  the  round-up.  Buckin' 
bosses  and  wet  nights  an'  wind  that  blows  yore  fire 
into  the  pots — they're  all  bunched  together  in  the  real 
thing;  but  they're  left  out  o'  books,  I  reckon." 

"  It's  romantic,  though,"  insisted  Miss  Molly, 
earnestly.  "  I  find  it  all  so  romantic.  I  should  love 
to  be  a  real  Westerner." 

**  There  ain't  many,"  declared  Pete.  "  That  Charley 
the  Ute  is  the  realest  Westerner.  He  was  born  West, 
an'  his  daddy  an'  mammy  before  him,  an'  all  the  rest 
of  his  ancestors.  I  ain't  a  native  Westerner,  myself. 
I  was  born  in  Kansas  City,  an'  that's  plumb  East." 


CHAPTER    XX 

EPHRAIM   COMES   FOR   MUTTON 

The  Pete  party  decided,  of  course,  to  stay  several 
days.  The  professor  was  immensely  interested  in  the 
volcanic  evidences  all  around.  His  vocation  was 
archaeologist  for  Oklahoma  University ;  but  his  avoca- 
tion, or  recreation  work  for  fun,  was  investigating 
anything  ancient,  be  that  rocks  or  human  tokens.  He 
was  glad  to  stay,  so  as  to  poke  about  with  his  pocket 
microscope  and  a  hammer;  and  the  girls  were  glad  to 
stay,  so  as  to  poke  about  also,  and  to  enter  into  the 
sheep-camp  life;  and  Pete  was  glad  to  stay,  to  rest 
the  "  bosses."  That  trail  did  lead  to  Roaring  Pine 
Forks ;  this  he  speedily  found  out. 

It  was  the  morning  after  the  reunion  about  the 
camp-fire,  and  Phil  was  again  watching  over  his  stray- 
ing sheep,  when  a  figure  rode  for  him,  and  presently 
Charley  Pow-wow,  the  Ute  young  man,  dismounted 
beside  him,  and  gravely  squatted. 

"You  like  this  better  than  cow-punching?"  asked 
Charley,  leisurely. 

"  No.  But  it's  not  so  bad  after  you're  used 
to  it.  I'd  rather  ride  than  walk,  though,"  answered 
Phil. 

Charley  grunted. 

"Where  is  the  professor?"  he  queried. 

260 


EPHRAIM    COMES    FOR    MUTTON    261 

"  He  went  off  prospecting  around,  somewhere. 
Went  over  toward  that  ridge." 

"Where  the  two  girls?" 

'*  They  rode  off  to  see  Hombre.  He  doesn't  know 
they're  here." 

Charley  grunted  again.  His  dark  face  was  set  and 
sober,  as  he  chewed  a  sprig  of  weed. 

"  They  ought  not  go  so  far  from  camp,"  he  said. 
"  That  lame  man,  he  is  liable  to  be  in  here.  We've 
trailed  him,  and  I  think  he  is  hiding  out  here.  It  is 
outlaw  country;  very  wild." 

"  You're  still  trailing  him,  then,  are  you?  "  prompted 
Phil.  He  had  been  curious  to  learn,  but  he  had  not 
ventured  to  ask,  lest  the  sheriff  should  not  be  ready 
to  answer. 

*'  Yes.  We  lost  him,  but  we  are  finding  him  again. 
We'll  get  him.  You  tell  the  professor,  and  those  two 
girls.    I  came  over  to  warn  them." 

"  I  hate  to  scare  Cherry,"  deplored  Phil.  "  She'll 
be  so  afraid  that  she  won't  sleep  nights,  even.  You 
know  how." 

Charley  nodded. 

"  Yes.  But  better  she  afraid  than  stolen.  She  stay 
in  close  a  little  while,  until  we  get  him.  He  may  not 
want  her,  but  we  do  not  know ;  and  he  is  very  desper- 
ate. Maybe  we  have  to  shoot  him  on  sight,  this  time. 
I  dunno." 

*' Where's  the  sheriff?" 

"  He's  shoeing  his  boss ;  he  and  your  father.  He 
thought  we  ought  to  tell  this  professor.  Maybe  ought 
to  tell  them  last  night.    I  dunno.    Good-by/' 


262  THE   CIRCLE   K 

Charley  arose. 

"  ril  tell  them,  when  I  see  them.  I'll  see  you  again, 
too,  won't  I?" 

"  Maybe.     I  dunno,"  grunted  Charley. 

He  had  been  white-man,  in  his  conversation;  but 
now  he  suddenly  was  all  Indian.  Phil  knew  that  noth- 
ing more  could  be  got  out  of  him,  and  so  let  him  go. 

The  news  was  communicated  to  Chet. 

"  Shore.  I  knew  it,"  affirmed  Chet.  "  That  sheriff 
doesn't  stop  till  he  gets  his  man.  He's  a  terror  on  the 
trail;  and  so's  Charley.  That  Joe  might  as  well  quit, 
and  hold  up  his  hands.  But  this  is  an  awful  mean 
country  to  corral  him  in." 

"  We'll  have  to  tell  the  professor  and  Cherry,"  said 
Phil.  "  It's  dangerous  for  them  to  be  where  he  is. 
He's  had  Cherry  twice,  and  he'll  want  her  again  and 
hold  her  for  ransom.  He  has  it  in  for  all  of  us,  now, 
I  reckon." 

"  I  reckon,"  concurred  Chet,  nonchalantly.  *'  All 
right;  we'll  have  to  tell  'em  as  soon  as  we  see  'em." 

But  they  did  not  see  the  professor,  nor  the  girls, 
during  the  day.  And  Pete  himself  had  ridden  on,  to 
inspect  the  Roaring  Pine  Forks  trail,  on  the  other 
side;  for  there  were  rumors  of  washouts.  The  day 
passed. 

Now  that  they  knew  the  man  with  the  limp  was  in 
the  country,  the  boys  were  uneasy.  They  wished  that 
Cherry  and  Miss  Molly  would  show  up;  they  wished 
that  Pete  would  show  up.  Of  course,  the  whole  re- 
sponsibility of  the  Circle  K  did  not  rest  upon  their 
shoulders,  for  Mr.  Simms  and  Old  Jess  and  Hane}^ 


EPHRAIM    COMES    FOR    MUTTON    263 

and  Ford  and  Hombre  were  in  the  vicinity,  to  form  a 
body-guard  if  necessary.  But  the  camp  of  Pete  and 
party  was  here  beside  their  own  camp,  and  that  kept 
them  keen. 

The  sun  was  seeking  the  bare,  pointed  parapets  to 
the  west,  when  Phil  was  a  little  curious  to  see  Chet 
saddling  up,  at  the  tent,  and  presently  to  come  riding 
over  upon  Medicine  Eye.  He  had  his  rifle,  in  scabbard 
under  his  left  leg. 

"  You  and  Bonita  can  round  up  the  sheep.  Fm 
going  over  to  Hombre's  and  bring  those  girls  back. 
They  might  start  back  alone." 

"Go  ahead,"  bade  Phil.  "We  can  handle  the 
sheep." 

So  away  rode  Chet;  through  the  low  willows  and 
buck-brush  of  a  boggy  swale  beyond,  and  over  the  yel- 
low ash  ridge  where  the  ancient  volcano  had  breathed 
its  fiery  breath  and  died,  and  dipping  down  he  dis- 
appeared. 

Phil  spoke  to  Bonita,  and  trudged  to  locate  the  out- 
skirts of  his  sheep,  so  that  he  might  simplify  the  even- 
ing job  of  bunching  them.  The  sun  seemed  destined 
to  make  an  early  setting  behind  the  ramparts  of  the 
west,  for  a  cloud-mass  was  rising  to  meet  it  and  hurry 
it  in.  But  sharp  and  clean  stood  forth  the  ramparts 
of  the  east,  forming  a  portion  of  the  old  crater's  rim. 
The  light  fell  full  upon  their  face,  displaying  the  weird 
yellows  and  reds  and  purples  and  browns  which  had 
been  burned  into  it. 

Perhaps  because  they  had  not  been  well  bunched, 
the  ni^ht  before,  owing  to  their  herders'  haste  tp  visit 


264  THE    CIRCLE    K 

with  the  Pete  party ;  or  perhaps  just  out  of  their  natural 
contrariness,  the  sheep  had  to-day  wandered  far,  trick- 
ling into  all  the  little  byways  of  their  pasture  as  if 
seeking  the  newest  nooks  they  could  find.  Keeping  on 
the  up  side,  so  that  they  could  oversee,  Phil  and  Bonita 
proceeded  over  the  rocks  and  the  scanty  herbage  of 
the  steep  slope,  above  which  jutted  the  great  wall  of 
the  crater.  They  really  were  circuiting  by  the  midway 
tier  of  an  enormous  amphitheater — larger  far  than  the 
Coliseum  of  Rome  and  much  more  ruinous.  The 
sheep  ran  baaing  down,  from  the  niches  where  they 
had  climbed.  The  arena  of  the  amphitheater,  which 
was  the  bottom,  extended  up  into  the  sides  in  many 
long  fissures,  seaming  the  tiers  of  vari-colored  rock. 
These  seams  were  strewn  with  the  buck-brush  and  with 
dwarfed  larches  and  with  flowers,  until,  ascending 
still,  they  were  marked  by  only  loose  rock  and  ashes. 
With  Bonita  Phil  paused  to  rest  and  take  breath. 
They  were  well  up,  on  the  slope — the  only  spectators 
of  the  panorama  unfolded  below  and  around  about. 
The  tinkle  of  the  bell-leaders  in  the  band  (he  and  Chet 
had  promptly  belled  the  old  black-face  fool,  too,  when 
they  had  assumed  charge  of  the  herd)  floated  musically 
up,  as  the  sheep  drifted  along  toward  the  flatter  pastur- 
age. The  sun  shone  level  from  the  west,  and  showed 
them  specking  the  herbage;  lighted  every  inch  of  the 
hither  side  of  the  amphitheater,  where  were  Phil  and 
dog,  but  cast  the  further  side  into  shadow. 

Bonita  pricked  her  ears,  and  Phil's  gaze  suddenly 
halted  and  stayed,  with  the  same  interest.  A  black 
spot   had    emerged    from    a    seam,    on    before,    and 


EPHRAIM    COMES    FOR    MUTTON    26^ 

was  traveling  rapidly  across  the  open  area  at  its 
mouth;  traveHng  as  if  with  a  distinct  purpose  in 
mind. 

Bonita  growled,  low  and  menacing.  The  spot  was 
a  third  of  a  mile  distant,  but  she  seemed  to  see  in  it 
something  that  Phil  did  not  see,  although  he  strained 
his  eyes,  and  watched  closely.  Person?  No;  not  a 
person.  Too  large  for  a  person,  and  did  not  move  like 
a  person.  Horse  and  rider?  That  was  hard  to  de- 
cipher. Might  be.  Might  be  somebody  from  the 
other  sheep  camps — from  the  Box  or  the  Mexican  gang 
of  the  Three  A.  And  yet  it  did  not  appear  as  a  horse 
and  rider.  It  was  more  like  a  loose  horse  ambling 
along.  And  loose  horse  he  would  have  decided  it  to 
be,  had  Bonita  not  persisted  in  pricking  her  ears,  at 
it,  and  growling. 

Fairly  in  the  open  it  seemed  to  quicken  its  pace — it 
launched  into  a  sudden  rolling  motion  like  a  gallop — 
and  covering  the  space  rapidly  it  had  charged  straight 
for  the  nearest  sheep !  Now  while  Phil  gazed,  appre- 
hensive, it  was  into  them,  where  they  huddled  and 
scampered.  Their  thin,  frightened  blatting  rose  to 
him  and  Bonita.  But  even  before  it  had  reached 
them  Phil  knew.  This  was  no  horse.  It  was  a 
bear! 

His  heart  in  his  mouth  he  went  running  down, 
shouting  loudly,  while  boldly  in  advance  of  him 
loudly  barked  Bonita.  Now  he  wished  that  he  had 
been  carrying  his  carbine.  But  herding  sheep  did  not 
require  a  weapon,  he  had  found,  and  the  carbine  was 
stowed  in  the  tent  for  emergencies  only.    When  he  hail 


266  THE    CIRCLE    K 

it,  he  never  saw  anything  to  use  it  on;  and  when  he 
didn't  have  it,  then  of  course  he  needed  it,  as  here. 
But  he  had  not  time  to  go  to  the  tent  after  it. 

Straight  through  the  eddying  sheep  had  charged  the 
black  object,  and  now  had  turned  and  was  charging 
back  again.  It  swerved  in  erratic  course,  as  if  allured 
hither  and  thither ;  and  trying  to  keep  his  eyes  on  it  as 
he  stumbled  and  slid  Phil  saw  that  it  had  stopped  and 
was  holding  to  one  station. 

It  must  be  eating  a  sheep.  He  could  imagine  it 
planted  upon  a  palpitating  woolly  carcass,  and  tear- 
ing and  gulping. 

Plunging  down  the  loose  slope  of  rocks  and  soft 
turf  they  had  almost  reached  the  bottom,  and  were 
nearing  the  scene.  Bonita  now  raced  ahead  impatiently 
and  indignantly.  Her  barks,  shrill  and  angry,  awak- 
ened the  echoes.  Phil  continued  to  shout.  His  voice 
sounded  empty  and  powerless,  amidst  that  vast  arena 
thirteen  thousand  feet  in  the  air.  And  this  impressed 
him  with  the  thought  that  he  would  be  just  about  as 
powerless,  facing  a  bloody- jawed  bear,  among  the 
panic-stricken  sheep,  his  only  weapon  his  fists  and  feet 
and  a  dried  stick  which  he  had  picked  up.  But  he 
must  save  the  sheep. 

The  bear  loomed  large.  Yes,  a  bear  it  was — stand- 
ing, as  he  had  pictured  it,  upon  the  prostrate  body  of  a 
sheep,  and  tearing  away  greedily.  Three  other  sheep 
were  down,  where  striking  right  and  left  the  charging 
beast  had  thrown  them.  Either  their  necks  or  their 
backs  were  broken.  One  was  struggling  and  feebly 
bleating. 


EPHRAIM    COMES    FOR    MUTTON    267 

But  the  bear  never  noticed.  He  never  noticed  Phil. 
He  was  eating.  Big?  A  rich  brown  he  was,  as  large 
as  a  cow  and  as  burly  as  a  bull.  Only  when  Bonita 
went  barking  and  growling  in  upon  him,  disturbing 
him,  did  he  lift  his  head,  from  the  platter  (so  to 
speak),  and  with  a  look  out  of  his  piggish  little  eyes, 
and  a  rumbling  snarl  which  displayed  shining  white 
teeth,  bid:  *' Get  out!  Don't  bother  me."  Bristles 
stood  up,  over  his  huge  shoulders,  and  maintained 
warning  as  he  proceeded  with  his  eating.  He  was  at 
once  hoggish  and  terrifying. 

Phil  must  pause.  The  sheep  were  wildly  fleeing; 
looking  back,  trotting  on,  looking  back  again,  and 
again  trotting.  He  and  Bonita  were  left  with  the  bear 
and  the  carcasses,  there  in  the  open  of  the  arena  itself. 
The  buck-brush  grew  irregularly,  like  patches  of  hazel- 
brush,  and  amidst  it  towered  the  bear,  devouring  his 
sheep. 

Bonita,  with  tail  drooped  and  lips  curled  back,  bris- 
tles up,  so  that  she  too  might  look  as  fearsome  as 
possible,  sidled  about  the  bear,  watching  for  a  chance 
to  nip.  Vainly  Phil  called  to  her.  Occasionally,  as 
she  drew  too  close,  the  bear  would  barely  lift  his 
broad  head,  and  would  rumble.  Once  she  made  a 
dash — and  quick  as  a  cat  the  bear  had  whisked  his 
hind  quarters  around,  so  that  he  faced  her;  Bonita 
precipitously  retired. 

The  bear  left  the  sheep  which  he  had  been  mauling 
and  guzzling,  and  stalked  majestically  to  the  next 
carcass.  This  sheep,  not  yet  lifeless,  raised  its  head  an 
inch  or  so   from  the  ground  and  baaed  pleadingly 


268  THE   CIRCLE   K 

in  his  face.  But  he  calmly  stepped  upon  it,  and 
nosed  it  as  if  seeking  the  best  place  for  his  first 
chew. 

Phil  could  not  stand  this.  Somehow,  he  did  not  feel 
especially  afraid  of  the  bear,  anyway.  He  had  seen 
bears  so  often,  in  zoos  and  menageries,  and  had  heard 
so  many  stories  of  them,  that  he  had  grown  accustomed 
to  the  idea  of  them.  According  to  everything  that  he 
had  heard,  the  ordinary  bear  was  a  peaceable  creature 
if  let  alone,  and  usually  preferred  getting  away  with- 
out a  fuss.  This  bear  made  him  mad.  The  colossal 
nerve  of  it,  killing  half  a  dozen  sheep  at  once,  and  then 
stalking  about,  irritated  because  it  was  disturbed. 
One  would  have  thought  that  it,  instead  of  the  Circle 
K,  owned  the  sheep ! 

**  Get  out !  "  he  berated.  "  Get  out  of  here !  Come 
away,  Bonita!  "  he  searched  about  for  a  stone.  If  he 
only  could  hold  back  Bonita,  and  hit  the  bear  with  a 
few  rocks,  he  might  make  it  move.  But  Bonita  kept 
stirring  it  up,  by  snipping  at  its  hind  quarters;  and 
thus  prevented  retreat. 

Phil  found  a  rock,  and  threw  it.  It  struck  the  bear 
on  his  flank,  and  he  instantly  whirled,  resentful,  for 
attack.  Seeing  opportunity,  Bonita  rushed,  and  nipped 
like  a  wolf.  She  would  have  darted  in  and  out  again, 
nimble  as  a  sword-thrust — but  she  was  not  quite 
nimble  enough.  With  a  roar  and  about-face  instan- 
taneous the  bear  whipped  out  his  paw  for  her;  he 
caught  her,  all  right,  just  as  she  was  midway  of  her 
backward  spring,  and  Phil  witnessed  her  hurtling 
through  the  air,  with  a  yelp,  higher  than  his  head,  to 


EPHRAIM    COMES    FOR    MUTTON    269 

crash  into  the  brush  twenty  feet  away.  Yet  it  seemed 
to  him  that  the  bear  scarcely  had  touched  her. 

This  infuriated  Phil  beyond  measure.  He  cared 
for  the  sheep,  but  he  cared  more  for  Bonita.  He  in- 
stantly pictured  her  lying  crushed  and  struggling,  in 
the  brush  where  she  had  landed.  But  before  running 
to  her,  to  see,  he  threw  a  second  rock  at  the  bear. 

"  I'll  break  your  head  for  that,  if  I  get  a  chance," 
he  yelled. 

The  rock  thudded  squarely  on  the  bear's  slavering 
jaw;  and  as  if  now  infuriated  in  turn,  the  great  beast, 
with  another  roar  and  squeal  combined,  rose  and 
towered,  standing  on  his  hind  feet.  Much  higher  than 
Phil  he  was;  taller  than  a  man,  broader  and  heavier 
than  a  man.  He  was  a  giant,  and  his  brown  bulk  filled 
the  landscape.  Phil  stared,  well  affrighted,  and  ready 
to  run.  As  he  did  not  accept  the  bear's  invitation  to 
step  forward  and  wrestle,  the  animal,  with  a  wheezy, 
complaining  grunt,  lowered  himself  lighly  to  his  fore- 
feet again  and  rubbed  his  jaw  with  a  paw. 

Suddenly  he  stayed  his  head,  and  raising  his  nose, 
sniffed.  There  was  a  sharp,  smart  crack,  from  behind 
Phil,  and  the  bear,  collapsing,  crumpled  in  a  brown 
heap.    His  body  twitched  a  little,  and  he  was  still. 

Much  startled,  Phil  dared  to  look  around.  He  saw, 
standing  about  twenty  paces  in  his  rear  and  to  the 
right,  a  strange  figure.  It  was  an  old  man,  with  copious 
white  beard,  and  white  hair  that  hung  about  his  face 
and  down  upon  his  shoulders.  He  wore  upon  his  head 
a  heavy,  broad-brimmed,  round-crowned  hat ;  his  cloth- 
ing appeared  to  be  leather;  and  at  the  moment  he  w^s 


270  THE    CIRCLE    K 

energetically  ramming  a  charge  or  a  bullet  down  the 
barrel  of  a  long,  muzzle-loading  rifle.  He  flipped  out 
the  ramrod,  stowed  it  in  place  underneath  the  barrel, 
from  a  flask  shook  a  little  powder  into  the  rifle's 
lock,  and  jarring  it  to  position,  evidently  satisfied  re- 
turned Phil's  gaze,  and  smiled. 

He  came  forward. 

"Dead  b'ar?"  he  queried.  "Must  be.  I  drawed 
bead  'twixt  eye  an'  ear,  an'  my  ol'  woman  never  missed 
mark  like  that  yet.  Yes,  gone  b'ar,"  he  added,  peer- 
ing over  the  brown  heap.  "  An'  gone  dog,  too,  I 
reckon,  jedgin'  by  the  way  he  went  sailin'  through  the 
air.  Nope,  thar  she  comes,"  for  Bonita  was  limping 
back  again,  curious  but  more  cautious.  She  did  not 
seem  to  be  much  hurt. 

"  Well,  I'm  much  obliged,"  said  Phil,  as  he  patted 
her.  "  That  shore  was  a  good  shot  you  made.  I 
didn't  know  what  he  was  going  to  do  next.  He'd 
killed  my  sheep." 

"  So  I  suspicioned.  But  I  knowed  I'd  got  him,  when 
I  fired.  I  stayed  back  to  reload  the  ol'  woman,  though. 
That's  the  plan.  Never  rush  with  an  empty  gun. 
Quite  a  sizable  b'ar.  Cinnamon.  Wall,  my  name's 
Grizzly  Dan;  that's  what  they  call  me.  I'm  an  ol'- 
timer.  I  was  with  Fremont,  when  he  come  through 
this  country  over  fifty  year  ago." 

"  My  name's  Phil  Macowan,'*  responded  Phil. 
"  I'm  herding  sheep  for  the  Circle  K.  Thaf  s  our 
camp,  over  there." 

"  I  see  it,"  nodded  Grizzly  Dan.  "  I'm  a  trapper. 
I've  been  a  trapper  more'n  sixty  year.    Go  ahead  with 


THE    GREAT    BEAST    ROSE,    STANDING    ON    HIS    HIND    FEET. 


EPHRAIM    COMES    FOR    MUTTON    271 

your  sheep,  an'  after  I  take  the  skin  off'n  this  animile 
I'll  be  over.  We'll  have  b'ar  steak  an'  fixin's  for 
supper." 

''Don't  you  want  help?"  proferred  Phil. 

The  old  man  laughed,  chuckling  in  his  beard  and 
twinkling  in  his  heavy-browed,  small,  shrewd  eyes. 
The  suit  he  wore  was  buckskin,  blackened  as  by  smoke 
and  by  grease.  The  coat  was  like  a  shirt,  hanging  out- 
side his  trousers  which  were  more  like  leggins,  being 
open  at  the  thighs.    On  his  feet  were  plain  moccasins. 

"  No,  thank  'ee.  I  reckon  I  can  butcher  my  own 
meat,  from  buff'ler  to  Injun." 

He  laid  his  rifle  carefully  against  the  brush,  and 
drawing  a  long-bladed  knife  from  a  sheath  at  the 
belt  he  wore,  knelt  in  business-like  manner  beside  the 
body  of  the  bear. 

Phil  left  him,  for  it  was  time  that  the  sheep  were  col- 
lected and  bunched  for  the  night.  He  had  not  thought 
to  ask  the  old  man  how  he  happened  to  be  on  hand  so 
opportunely,  nor  how  or  whence  he  had  come.  But 
as  he  turned  his  eye  caught  sight  of  a  spotted  pony  back 
in  the  buck-brush.  '  That  must  be  the  old-man's  horse. 

Having  again  gathered  the  sheep,  Phil  scarcely  was 
at  the  camp  ere  the  old  man  arrived,  on  foot,  rifle  on 
shoulder,  leading  his  spotted  pony  piled  high  with  meat 
and  skins.  There  were  not  only  the  bear  pelt,  but  the 
pelts  of  the  sheep;  all  lashed  fast. 

"  I've  been  seein'  your  camp,  but  I  don't  mix  up 
much  with  travelers  through,"  grunted  the  old  man, 
as  he  began  to  unfasten  the  load.  "  I  make  my  own 
trails.    But  when  I  seed  you  an'  that  b'ar,  I  reckoned 


272  THE    CIRCLE    K 

I'd  better  interfere.  That  b'ar  was  beginning  to  get 
reel  angry.  I  give  him  a  pill  out  o'  my  ol'  regulator, 
though,  that  sweetened  his  stomick.  Sally,  she  knows 
how  to  perscribe." 

Sally  took  Phil's  eye.  She  was  the  rifle — and  she 
was  a  flint-lock.  Yes,  an  old-type  mountain-and-plains 
gun,  with  long,  heavy  barrel,  big  hammer  and  pan,  and 
slim-necked,  well-curved  stock.  But  if  she  was  a  flint- 
lock and  a  muzzle-loader,  she  was  enough,  for  her 
owner  had  settled  that  bear  with  a  single  shot.  How- 
ever, flint-lock  rifles  were  nowadays  to  be  found 
mainly  in  museums — and  old  Dan  himself  might  have 
been  found  there.  But  of  course  this  comment  was 
not  to  be  made  aloud. 

"  Yes,  we'll  have  b'ar  steak  an'  fixin's,"  mumbled 
the  old  man.  He  laid  aside  the  sheep  pelts,  and  un- 
rolling the  bear  pelt  exposed  a  quantity  of  dark  red 
meat  and  white  fat.  "  That  b'ar  had  been  livin*  high. 
Thar  were  three  inches  o'  grease  on  him.  This  your 
pardner  comin'?  Got  wimmin  folk  with  him;  two 
gals.    An'  'nother  man  besides.'* 

Grizzly  Dan  had  quick  eyes  and  keen  eyes;  Phil 
now  for  the  first  time  descried  Chet  (or  probably 
Chet)  approaching,  riding  across  the  flat,  through  the 
dusk ;  with  him  three  other  figures.  These  proved  to  be 
Cherry  and  Miss  Molly  and  Pete ;  and  Phil  felt  a  surge 
of  relief.  The  girls  were  safe,  then.  But  the  pro- 
fessor had  not  returned. 

"  He  must  have  stopped  at  one  of  the  other  camps," 
asserted  Chet,  for  Cherry  plainly  was  worried.  The 
darkness  was  thickening.     The  air  was  frosty.     And 


EPHRAIM    COMES    FOR   MUTTON    273 

evidently  she  had  been  told  about  the  quest  of  the 
sheriff,  for  Joe  the  lame  man. 

"  Yes/'  agreed  Pete.  "  I'll  ride  'round  after  supper, 
an'  make  sure." 

So  for  a  short  time  chief  interest  centered  in  Grizzly 
Dan,  as  he  puttered  about  the  stove,  crooning  and 
mumbling  in  contented  way,  while  frying  a  wonderful 
sandwich-like  concoction  of  bear  meat  and  fat  mingled 
in  strips. 

''  Yes,"  he  was  saying.  "  I  war  with  Fremont,  in 
'48.  I  come  out  to  the  Injun  country  when  I  war  fif- 
teen, an'  I've  been  hyar  ever  since.  I  knowed  Kit 
Carson  an'  Jim  Bridger  an'  Bill  Williams  an'  all  of  'em. 
I'm  a  Fremont  man  an'  a  Kit  Carson  man.  I'm  eighty- 
six  year  old,  but  I  can  trail  an'  trap  with  anybody,  an' 
I  reckon  I've  got  jest  about  one  more  Injun  fight  in 
me.  Who  you  pow-wowin'  about?"  he  asked,  ab- 
ruptly, hearing  the  discussion  over  the  professor. 

"  My  father.  He's  out  somewhere  and  he  hasn't 
come  in.  I'm  afraid  he's  lost,  or  else  that  a  bad  man 
who's  around  has  got  him,"  said  Cherry. 

''  Shortish  man,  with  round  store  hat  'an'  whiskers, 
on  a  bay  hoss  with  four  white  feet?"  demanded  the 
old  trapper. 

"  Yes,"  exclaimed  Cherry. 

"  That's  shore  him,"  agreed  Pete. 

"  Wall,  I  seed  him,"  announced  Grizzly  Dan.  "  I 
seed  him.  Who's  that  other  man  you  spoke  of,  gal? 
Slim,  Greaser-faced  feller,  with  black-moustache  'bout 
as  big  as  a  beaver's,  an'  one  foot  crippled?  Ridin'  a 
speckled  hoss  ?  " 


274  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"  Yes,  yes !  I  don't  know  about  the  horse,  but  it's 
Joe.  Oh,  it  is  Joe !  Did  you  see  him  too  ?  "  cried 
Cherry,  breathlessly. 

Grizzly  Dan  nodded,  solemnly,  and  poked  his  meat. 

"  Yes,  missy.  Seed  him,  too.  Seed  'em  both  to- 
gether, shortly  after  noon  to-day.  They  was  ridin' 
along,  in  Cinnamon  Gulch,  an'  I  sat  on  the  hill,  an' 
watched  'em." 

**0h!"  exclaimed  Cherry.  She  sobbed.  "He's 
got  my  father.  He  didn't  get  me,  but  he  got  my 
father." 

"  Don't  cry,  dear,"  comforted  Miss  Molly,  putting 
her  arm  around  Cherry.  "  Please  don't.  We'll  find 
him  again.  But  how  thrillingly,  dreadfully  romantic!  " 

"  Oh,  pshaw !  "  muttered  Phil,  in  dismay. 

Chet  and  Pete  also  exclaimed.  Joe  the  lame  man 
had  the  professor,  probably  to  hold  as  hostage.  The 
price  of  liberty  and  freedom  from  pursuit  would  be 
the  professor,  poor  m^an. 

But  amidst  the  general  consternation  and  Pete,s 
excited  avowals  that  he  was  going  at  once  to  follow  the 
lame  man  and  kill  him  on  sight,  Grizzly  Dan  took  the 
reins. 

**  Wait  till  mornin',"  he  said;  "wait  till  mornin'. 
Thar  won't  be  nothin'  gained  by  startin'  out  on  a  dark 
night  an'  an  empty  stomick.  They'll  have  to  camp, 
themselves,  unless  they  know  these  trails  better'n  I 
do — an'  they  don't.  When  I  seed  'em  they  was  bound 
up  Cinnamon  Gulch;  but  I  know  a  short  cut  we  can 
take  in  the  mornin'  an'  if  thar  ain't  a  leetle  ha'r-raisin' 
due   'fore   we've   had   to   travel   very    fur   I'm  pore 


EPHRAIM    COMES    FOR    MUTTON    275 

beaver.  You  got  an  Injun,  you  say?  Wall,  Injuns 
are  good  on  the  trail,  but  I  can  out-Injun  any  Injun 
that  ever  wore  moccasin — or  at  least,  I  uster  could. 
So  we'll  wait  till  mornin',  an'  we'll  fill  our  meat-bags 
full  o'  this  hyar  b'ar  fixin's.  Don't  she  smell  good? 
Needn't  cry,  gal.  Your  dad's  safe  to-night.  He'd  be 
no  good  to  that  feller,  dead;  so  he  won't  be  hurt.'* 


CHAPTER    XXI 

GRIZZLY   DAN    ON    THE   TRAIL 

"Yes/*  said  Grizzly  Dan,  riding  easily.  "I  talk 
some  Ute,  an'  I  talk  Shoshonie  an'  'Rapaho  an'  Sioux 
an'  some  Blackfeet.  But  sign  language  is  enough.  If 
you  know  signs,  you  don't  need  to  talk." 

It  was  the  next  morning,  and  the  Circle  K  was 
afield,  on  the  trail  of  the  man  with  the  limp  and  the 
professor  his  captive.  Mr.  Simms  and  Old  Jess,  Pete 
and  the  sheriff  of  Blanco  county,  the  two  boys,  Charley 
the  Ute  and  Grizzly  Dan :  forth  they  had  ridden,  with 
dawn,  leaving  behind  Ford  and  Haney  and  Hombre  to 
care  for  the  sheep  and  the  two  girls. 

The  old  trapper,  in  his  dingy  buckskins,  upon  his 
pie-bald  pony,  long  rifle  across  hollow  of  left  arm,  rode 
in  front,  with  Charley  Pow-wow.  When  he  had  en- 
countered Charley  he  had  eyed  him  askance,  and  then 
had  grunted  a  few  words  to  him.  Charley  had  grunted 
back.  The  Ute  language  seemed  to  be  mostly  grunt, 
anyway,  Phil  remembered.  Now  the  old  trapppr  was 
speaking  over  his  shoulder,  to  Phil  and  Chet,  who  rode 
behind  him. 

"  This  boy  doesn't  know  me,  mebbe,  but  I  reckon  his 
father  does.  The  old  men  know  me.  I've  font  zvith 
'em  an'  I've  fout  agin  'em.  The  Utes  war  mostly 
the  trapper's  friend,  but  a  red  niggur's  a  red  niggur, 
I've  found,  when  he's  out  for  scalps." 

Z76 


GRIZZLY    DAN    ON    THE    TRAIL      2']^ 

"  Charley's  father  is  dead.  We  saw  him  get  killed 
last  summer,"  replied  Chet. 

Grizzly  Dan  addressed  a  few  words  to  Charley. 
Charley  grunted  gutturally  back — in  almost  a  single 
syllable. 

"No;  he  says  not.  Got  well,"  declared  Grizzly 
Dan. 

"Did  he,  Charley?  Is  Chief  Billy  alive?"  asked 
Phil,  astonished.  For  he  and  Chet  had  witnessed 
Chief  Billy  reel  from  the  saddle,  in  response  to  Hungry 
Joe  the  wrangler's  long  shot. 

Charley  did  not  answer.  He  was  Indian  again ;  and 
when  that  mood  was  upon  him  he  declined  to  respond 
to  English. 

It  was  news,  anyway.  And  Phil  was  rather  glad 
that  the  fat  old  Ute  chief  was  still  on  earth. 

The  old  trapper  had  halted  his  pony,  to  point.  The 
cavalcade  also  halted. 

"  Cinnamon  Creek  lies  over  yonder,  acrost  that  thar 
leetle  divide,"  he  informed.  "  Whar  I  seed  them  two 
men  war  right  south,  on  'tother  side,  down  below  that 
white  patch.  The  creek  flows  nice  an'  easy  for  half 
a  day's  travel,  through  willow  an'  this  hyar  brush,  an' 
then  it  enters  among  slide  rock  an'  stuff  whar  it's  the 
dickens  to  pay  to  gtt  out." 

"  That's  a  new  country  to  me,"  said  the  sheriff. 
"  And  I  wager  you  it's  a  new  one  to  Charley." 

"  It  ain't  new  to  me,"  asserted  the  old  trapper. 
"  I've  been  high  an'  low ;  I  war  in  hyar  fifty  year 
ago,  crossin'  over  an'  huntin'  beaver  on  'tother  side. 
I've  seen  this  country  when  it  war  full  o'  buffler,  driven 


278  THE    CIRCLE    K 

acrost  by  the  Injuns,  an'  when  elk  war  as  plenty  as 
them  sheep.  Many  a  beaver  I've  made  '  come  '  lower 
down  on  Cinnamon.  That  lame  feller  may  think  he 
knows  the  country,  but  he  don't  stan'  no  show  with 
me.  We'll  short  cut,  for  that  saddle — see  it? — an' 
we'll  strike  his  trail  fresh,  at  the  creek  below,  or  I'm 
a  Injun  myself." 

They  rode  on.  Grizzly  Dan  led  by  a  peculiar  rock- 
ing trot  which  covered  the  ground  at  a  surprising  rate, 
for  his  pinto  or  spotted  pony  seemed  to  be  making  no 
effort.  Charley  the  Ute  rode  beside  him,  and  the 
others  followed:  the  two  boys,  Mr.  Simms  and  Old 
Jess,  the  sheriff  and  Pete,  each  with  a  rifle  in  scab- 
bard under  leg.  But  the  old  trapper  could  not  carry 
his  rifle  in  scabbard  under  leg.  As  said,  he  carried  it 
loosely  lying  in  the  hollow  of  his  left  arm.  And  Mr. 
Simms  had  only  his  big  Colt's  six-shooter,  thumping 
at  his  thigh. 

For  two  hours  more  they  rode,  at  that  constant  trot 
which  would  have  galled  any  ordinary  horseman;  for 
after  a  while  a  steady  trotting  becomes  irksome  as 
one  fails  to  find  new  places  to  sit  on,  in  the  saddle. 
They  reached  the  ridge,  and  at  the  base  a  pause  was 
made.  Charley  the  Ute  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
glanced  to  the  west.  He  spoke  a  word  or  two  of  Ute. 
The  old  trapper  nodded. 

"  Coin'  to  squall,"  he  said. 

"  Feels  like  it,"  agreed  the  sheriff  and  Jess. 

In  the  southwest  were  gathering  drab  cloud-masses. 
They  welled  out  of  the  serrated  peaks  there,  as  if  they 
were  being  breathed  forth  by  giants ;  and  misty  squalls 


GRIZZLY    DAN    ON    THE    TRAIL      279 

of  either  rain  or  liail  could  be  seen  drifting  slowly 
across  the  mighty  uplifts.  This  was  not  an  unfamil- 
iar spectacle,  for  it  always  was  storming  somewhere, 
within  sight,  on  this  high,  broken  plateau. 

The  ridge  which  confronted  the  Circle  K  squad  rose 
stupendous  in  a  long,  steep  slope  covered  thickly  with 
jagged  chunks  of  rock.  The  color  was  a  dull  gray, 
with  the  sun's  rays  here  and  there  glistening  upon 
mica.  The  footing  was  loose  and  treacherous,  and 
only  in  spots  was  there  trace  of  a  faint  trail;  but  the 
old  trapper  slapped  his  horse  with  his  moccasinned 
heels,  and  started  up. 

"Mountain  sheep  cross  over  this  way,"  he  quoth; 
**  an'  I  reckon  we  can  go  where  they  can." 

The  horses  stumbled  and  toiled. 

"  Oh,  gee!  "  quoth  diet.  "  Fm  going  to  get  off." 
And  he  did.  **  A  hawss  is  liable  to  break  a  leg.  I 
don't  want  to  have  Medicine  Eye  tumble  here  while 
I'm  on  him." 

Phil  also  dismounted;  and  so  did  the  others,  to 
ease  their  horses  on  this  insecure  way.  But  the  old 
trapper  and  Charley  the  Ute  continued  to  ride. 

The  squad  proceeded  single  file.  Where  the  rocks 
were  too  jumbled  the  trail  was  lost;  but  always  they 
emerged  upon  it  again.  Grizzly  Dan  led  without  a 
falter.  When  from  the  first  rock  jumble  they  came 
out  upon  an  open,  smoother  tract,  of  gravel  and  loose 
shingle,  a  great  company  of  speckled  birds  like 
chickens  ran  out  from  under  the  horses'  hoofs,  and 
chirping  gaily  pecked  about  for  food  as  they  fearlessly 
moved  among  the  debris. 


28o  THE   CIRCLE   K 

"Those  are  ptarmigan/'  said  Chet.  "That's  why 
this  country  is  named  Ptarmigan  Flats.  They  turn 
white  in  the  winter.    Aren't  they  tame,  though !  " 

Evidently  there  were  not  many  hunters  up  here  to 
molest  them.  Little  rivulets  of  water  were  trickling 
down,  from  snow-banks  upon  the  crest  of  the  ridge, 
above.  The  route  pursued  mounted  the  slope  in  a 
long  oblique;  and  from  the  shingle  and  gravel  the 
little  squad  in  its  single  file  entered  upon  snow 
itself. 

The  sun  had  suddenly  paled;  its  light  faded,  and 
instantly  a  cool  breath  fanned  across  the  vast  slant 
of  rock  and  gravel.  Clouds  were  filling  the  sky  above, 
and  now  came  driving  athwart  the  trail  a  storm  of 
sleet  and  hail. 

"  Nice  summer  weather,"  called  the  sheriff,  jocu- 
larly, as  they  all  turned  up  collars  and  hunched  over, 
to  receive  it,  while  they  plodded  on.  "  Now  I  reckon 
people  down  below  in  Denver  or  New  York'd  give  a 
good  deal  to  have  this  storm  in  August ! " 

"  Ask  that  man  when  we  cross  the  ridge,"  called 
Mr.  Simms. 

"  Don't  cross  it,"  grunted  Grizzly  Dan.  "  Not  yet 
for  a  while.  Thar's  a  little  pass,  ahead,  yonder, 
whar  we  can  get  through  an'  not  be  seen.  When 
you're  bein'  follered  keep  to  the  high  ground,  so  you 
can  see;  but  when  you're  follerin',  keep  to  the  low 
ground,  so  you  won't  be  seen;  that's  my  principles." 

Mr.  Simms  was  silent  under  this  rebuke,  and  Chet 
must  chuckle. 

The  storm  passed,  and  the  sun  shone  out  again. 


GRIZZLY   DAN   ON   THE   TRAIL      281 

Now  filing  along  half  way  up  the  slope  and  parallel 
with  the  ridge  above,  the  party  continued,  perspiring 
in  the  moisture  of  sleet-soaked  earth  and  clothing. 
A  queer  climate,  was  this,  thirteen  thousand  feet  up  in 
the  solitudes. 

The  old  trapper  veered  and  cut  abruptly  to  the  right, 
entering  a  dip  or  saddle  of  the  ridge.  They  all  fol- 
lowed. Here  in  the  shelter  and  the  reflected  warmth 
grew  amidst  the  rocks  a  few  flowers,  white  and  pink, 
like  daisies.  The  old  trapper  held  up  his  hand,  as 
signal,  and  rode  forward  while  the  others  stopped. 
Chet  and  Phil,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  accepted  the  op- 
portunity to  climb  into  the  saddle  again.  That  had 
been  a  hard  tramp,  over  the  rocks  and  shingle,  some- 
times hauling  the  horses  and  sometimes  almost  stepped 
upon. 

Grizzly  Dan  disappeared  around  a  shoulder  of  the 
little  pass.  He  was  reconnoitering.  It  must  have  been 
half  an  hour  later,  and  Mr.  Simms  and  Old  Jess  were 
fidgeting  with  impatience,  and  Pete  was  grumbling, 
and  the  sheriff  and  Charley,  stretched  in  the  sun,  had 
gone  to  sleep,  when  he  returned. 

"  I  don't  see  'em,"  he  reported.  "  But  they  may  be 
down  in  thar  jest  the  same.  Old  Cinnamon  flows 
deep,  so's  a  man  can't  see  out,  occasional.  But  we'll 
split  when  we  ride  down,  an'  come  in  ahead  an'  behind, 
an'  if  we  don't  strike  sign  I'm  much  mistook." 

He  shook  the  lines  against  his  pony's  neck,  and 
wheeling  led  off  as  before.  They  pressed  through 
the  little  pass,  all  riding  expectantly.  It  was  open, 
smooth,  and  shallow,  and  of  gentle  incline;  in  five 


282  iTHE    CIRCLE    K 

minutes  they  had  traversed  it,  and  were  upon  the 
verge  of  the  farther  slope. 

The  pass  debouched  upon  another  wide  expanse, 
where  the  rock  and  shingle  fell  away  into  a  canyon- 
like vale  five  hundred  feet  below.  Along  the  bottom  of 
the  vale,  wooded,  probably  by  willows,  in  spots,  glinted 
the  waters  of  a  creek;  and  upon  the  opposite  mighty 
slope  which  rose  bare  and  forbidding  floated  shadows 
of  the  clouds.  There  was  room  in  that  vale  for 
armies;  and  the  Circle  K  squad  was  hunting  for  two 
men.  Very  small  felt  Phil,  as  on  this  brink  he  sat  his 
saddle  and  peered  down. 

"  Divide  up.  Half  of  you  ride  to  the  right,  p'intin' 
about  for  that  snow-patch  acrost  yonder;  the  rest  of 
us'll  skrimmage  off  in  'tother  direction.  When  you 
cross  sign,  foller  it.    It'll  be  thar,  or  I'm  pore  bull." 

Charley  the  Ute,  the  sheriff,  and  Old  Jess  turned  off, 
and  made  diagonally  down  the  slope,  to  the  right; 
Grizzly  Dan,  Pete,  Mr.  Simms  and  the  two  boys  took 
the  left.  It  was  treacherous  underfoot,  for  the  shingle 
and  large  rocks  were  loose;  but  the  old  trapper  sent 
his  horse  ahead  almost  at  a  trot,  and  the  other  horses 
must  keep  up  with  long,  plunging  strides.  Everybody 
must  stand  in  the  stirrups,  leaning  forward  with  hand 
upon  saddle-horn. 

The  opposite  slope  was  strangely  tinted,  with  black 
and  reddish-brown;  and  Phil  noted  that  this  slope 
which  they  were  descending  was  strewn  with  blocks 
of  stone  also  black  and  reddish-brown  as  if  rusted. 
The  black  was  dense  and  flinty,  ringing  to  the  hoofs ; 
the  reddish-brown  was  like  rust,  staining  the  black. 


GRIZZLY    DAN    ON    THE    TRAIL      283 

Even  the  shingle  was  dark,  being  composed  of 
slabs  mottled  dark-green  and  black,  in  a  froggy 
effect. 

Down  they  plunged,  in  another  long  diagonal, 
Grizzly  Dan  ahead,  heavy-barreled  rifle  now  across 
horn,  his  shaggy  locks  tossing  to  the  steps  of  his  horse, 
as  with  head  up  he  scanned  the  vista  below.  He  might 
have  been  a  Remington  figure  of  some  early-day  plains 
or  mountain  scout. 

The  other  party,  who  had  taken  the  right,  were  half 
way  down  and  riding  rapidly.  Presently  a  little  swell 
hid  them. 

"  They'll  reach  bottom  'fore  wt  do,"  commented 
Grizzly  Dan.  "  But  that's  all  right.  If  they  find  game 
they'll  drive  it  out  whar  we  can  ketch  it." 

Plainly  enough  the  old  trapper  expected  that  the 
man  with  the  limp  and  the  professor  his  prisoner  were 
down  in  that  creek-bed,  and  that  the  divided  party 
would  come  in  behind  and  ahead  of  them.  As  least, 
the  trail  would  be  crossed. 

There  was  a  rumble  in  the  southwest;  by  another 
one  of  those  constant  changes  of  weather  in  this  high 
country  a  thunder-storm  was  swelling  above  the  op- 
posite slope.  But  thin  and  clear  was  wafted  to  the 
little  party's  ears  another  sound:  the  sharp,  ringing 
report  of  a  rifle, 

"  Wagh ! "  shouted  the  old  trapper,  and  his  horse 
leaped  forward. 

"  Come  on  I "  cried  Chet,  spurring  Medicine  Eye. 

Phil,  not  to  be  out-done,  spurred  Pepper ;  Mr.  Simms 
and  Pete  lunged  in  a  sudden  jump  of  their  mounts 


284  THE    CIRCLE    K 

also.  And  they  all  went  pelting  down  the  long,  rocky 
slant,  into  whose  softish  face  the  horses  sank  above 
their  fetlocks,  every  jump. 

This  was  surely  hard  riding.  It  reminded  Phil  of 
chasing  wild  horses — only  it  was  worse.  Pete's  broad 
brim  flared  back  in  the  breeze  which  he  made,  and  the 
old  trapper's  shaggy  locks  streamed  like  a  mane.  Phil 
hung  on  to  his  saddle-horn — and  he  did  not  care,  for 
he  saw  that  Chet  was  doing  the  same.  But  the  old 
trapper  rode  "  straight  up."  He  was  a  corker,  was 
Grizzly  Dan. 

They  saw  him — the  lame  man!  He  was  out  from 
the  covert  where  the  Cinnamon  flowed  through  chan- 
nel more  constricted,  and  was  into  the  open  vale.  He 
was  alone,  and  he  was  riding  rapidly. 

*'  Wagh !  "  again  shouted  the  old  trapper.  "  Thar's 
the  critter.  I  knowed  it.  I  told  you  thar'd  be  sign, 
or  better." 

Flourishing  his  long  rifle  above  his  head  he  increased 
the  pace.  His  spotted  pony,  keeping  the  front, 
plunged  on,  with  stiff  forelegs  and  lowered  haunches, 
making  quick  goat-like  leaps  and  slides.  Snorting  and 
grunting,  the  other  horses  raced  just  behind,  spreading 
in  fan  shape. 

"I  don't  see  the  professor,"  panted  Chet.  "Jim- 
iny!    If  he's  hurt  the  professor!  '* 

"  I  should  say !  "  bemoaned  Phil. 

Mr.  Simms  had  jerked  his  six-shooter  from  the 
holster  at  his  right  thigh,  and  holding  it  high  as  he  rode 
was  gazing  with  lips  sternly  compressed  at  that  lone, 
hotly  spurring  figure  below.     Phil  struggled  to  draw 


GRIZZLY    DAN    ON    THE    TRAIL      285 

his  carbine  from  beneath  his  leg;  but  this  was  no  easy 
matter,  with  Pepper  bucking  down  that  soft  slope. 
Chet  was  grumbling  over  the  same  difficulty,  while 
Pete,  with  thrill  cow-puncher  yelps,  was  trying  to 
catch  up  with  Grizzly  Dan. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

THE   SMITING   OF   THE   LAME   MAN 

The  lame  man  had  seen  them,  of  course.  And  it 
looked  as  if  he  was  going  to  beat  them.  Before  they 
would  reach  his  trail  he  would  have  passed. 

Mr.  Simms  must  have  read  this,  for  suddenly  he 
exclaimed  : 

"  Some  of  you  men  with  rifles  will  have  to  stop  him. 
I  can't,  yet." 

"  Give  it  to  him,  Phil !  "  urged  Chet,  excited  the 
more  over  the  prospect  of  their  arch  enemy  getting 
away.    "  Can't  you  give  it  to  him?  " 

There  was  a  crack!  crack! — Pete  had  begun  to 
shoot.  Chet's  rifle  was  out,  at  last,  and  he,  too,  pulled 
trigger.  Phil  worked  hard;  his  carbine  had  wedged 
fast  under  his  leg,  and  as  he  tugged  almost  forced  him 
out  of  the  tossing  saddle.  But  finally  (it  seemed  to 
him  an  age,  and  he  was  wild  with  vexation) he  got 
it  loose.  He  momentarily  let  the  reins  hang  loose  on 
Pepper's  neck,  while  he  tried  to  aim.  But  who  could 
aim,  from  such  a  seat.  He  fired,  and  he  really  was 
relieved  to  know  that  the  lame  man  would  be  hit  only 
by  accident;  for  it  seemed  a  hideous  thing,  to  draw 
deliberate  and  deadly  bead  upon  a  human  being,  no 
matter  how  truly  he  deserved  the  death.  However, 
if  this  lame  man  had  killed  the  professor,  who  was  a 

?86 


THE    SMITING    OF    THE    LAME    MAN    287 

fine  scientist  and  was  Cherry's  father !   And  Phil 

hardened  his  heart,  and  tried  to  aim  a  little  more  care- 
fully. 

"  Aw,  shucks !  "  complained  Chet.  "  Nobody  can't 
hit  him."  Chet's  grammar  was  apt  to  be  a  little  off, 
in  great  stress  of  mind  like  this. 

The  pursuit  was  surely  falling  behind.  The  lame 
man  was  full  two  hundred  yards  below,  and  forging 
ahead.  And  now  the  elements  were  taking  a  hand. 
Louder  had  been  pealing  the  thunder,  and  down  the 
opposite  ridge,  so  bare  and  forbidding,  was  sweeping 
a  line  of  mist.  It  was  another  squall.  The  lame  man 
defiantly  shook  his  hand  at  his  pursuers,  above  him. 
He  might  have  been  snapping  his  fingers  at  their 
plight. 

"  Wagh !  "  grunted  Grizzly  Dan."  "  I  can't  stand 
that.  You  fellers  watch  ol'  Sal.  She  ain't  much  on 
looks,  but  she's  got  a  long  tongue." 

He  reined  in  his  spotted  pony,  sharply,  so  that  it 
slid  like  a  rabbit  trying  to  turn,  its  hind  hoofs  under- 
reaching  well-nigh  beyond  its  fore  hoofs.  He  clapped 
his  hand  against  the  lock-plate  of  his  muzzle-loader 
flint-lock,  jarring  the  priming  into  place;  and  swiftly 
and  easily  raising  the  heavy  weapon  to  his  shoulder, 
laid  eye  adown  the  long  barrel.  Hauling  back  hard, 
the  party  would  hold  in  their  horses  also,  and  await 
the  result  of  the  shot. 

His  hair  falling  about  the  rifle-stock,  the  old  man 
squinted ;  the  muzzle  steadied  for  an  instant,  and  there 
broke  from  it  a  whiff  of  smoke  and  a  whip-snapper 
report.    Phil's  eyes  sprang  to  the  mark,  below.    The 


288  THE    CIRCLE    K 

"  spat  "  of  the  bullet  floated  upward,  and  the  lame  man 
dived  headfirst  to  the  rocks,  as  his  horse  lurched  to 
its  breast,  and  rolled,  kicking  and  tossing,  upon  its 
side. 

"  Hooray !  "  cheered  Pete.  "  Got  his  boss,  anyhow. 
That  was  some  shot !  " 

"  Come  on !  "  urged  Chet. 

And  they  all  dashed  downward  again. 

But  Grizzly  Dan,  as  on  the  run,  in  the  saddle, 
he  deftly  reloaded  his  cumbersome  piece,  muttered 
angrily. 

"  A  pore  guess,  a  pore  guess,'*  he  scolded.  "  Jest 
an  inch  higher  an'  I'd  a  raised  his  ha'r,  certain." 

The  lame  man  had  quickly  left  his  horse  lying  and 
struggling  feebly,  and  turning  up  the  slope  opposite 
was  climbing  furiously.  The  squall  met  him  and  en- 
veloped him.  He  did  not  pause.  Through  the  veil 
of  mist  which  now  hung  straight  down  between  the 
two  slopes,  the  pursuing  party  could  dimly  see  him 
clambering  nimbly  but  laboriously  among  the  shingles 
and  the  boulders  there.  His  lameness  bothered  him — 
his  progress  was  painful  to  watch — but  he  was  getting 
away! 

Pete  was  shooting,  Chct  was  shooting,  Phil  blindly 
shot;  and  even  Mr.  Simms'  six-shooter  Colt's  pealed 
its  challenge. 

"  Can't  see,  can't  see,"  declared  Grizzly  Dan,  peer- 
ing.   "Drat  that  storm,  anyhow." 

Only  for  an  instant  the  veil  hung;  then  it  came 
apace,  drifting  fast.  It  caught  the  party  still  one 
hundred  and  fifty  yards  from  the  bottom.    The  thun- 


THE    SMITING   OF   THE   LAME    MAN   289 

der  fiercely  bellowed,  the  lightning  flared,  and  the 
horses,  turning  tail,  refused  to  advance  another  inch. 
There  was  crash  after  crash,  stunning  reports  like  re- 
ports of  dynamite,  splitting  the  very  air — but  the 
storm  was  not  rain;  it  was  snow!  A  snow  thunder- 
storm ! 

"  Snowing  up  here.  Raining  below,"  commented 
Mr.  Simms. 

Phil  felt  a  violent  twitch  in  the  arm  which  held  his 
carbine,  and  almost  lost  his  hold.  A  little  ball  of  fire 
rolled  down  the  short  barrel  and  dropped  from  the 
muzzle.  And  now  the  rocks  about  seemed  fairly 
aflame  with  the  electricity,  and  shook  with  inces- 
sant reports.    The  horses  shivered  and  shrank. 

"  Wagh !  "  exclaimed  the  old  trapper.  "  This  hyar 
red  and  black  rock  is  iron  rock.  We'd  better  be  gettin' 
out  o'  hyar.  But  he's  in  a  wuss  fix,  over  acrost. 
That's  magnet  rock,  an'  it  draws  lightnin'  like  a  dead 
buffler  draws  buzzards." 

Hunched  and  powerless  to  move,  with  heads  twisted 
they  watched  the  lame  man,  as,  seen  so  dimly  through 
the  driving  snow,  he  still  climbed.  The  lightning 
flamed  and  glared  all  about  him — and  a  dreadful 
spectacle  this  was,  of  the  bolts  hunting  him,  amidst 
the  flakes.  It  seemed  as  though  he  was  being  pelted, 
not  with  snow-balls,  but  with  fire-balls.  Or  it  seemed 
as  though  an  airship  might  be  above  him,  drop- 
ping bombs  upon  him.  The  lightning  was  constantly 
taking  the  form  of  these  balls  of  fire,  and  as  he 
climbed,  the  lame  man  dodged  and  ducked.  Some- 
times he  slipped,  sometimes  he  halted,  briefly,  as  if 


290  THE    CIRCLE    K 

panting  and  exhausted;  but  he  never  cowered  nor 
turned  back;  he  went  right  along. 

Twice  Grizzly  Dan  raised  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder, 
to  sight;  and  twice  he  lowered  it. 

"  No  use  burnin'  good  powder,"  he  grunted.  **  An' 
no  use  invitin'  lightnin',  either." 

The  others  had  quickly  thrust  their  weapons  into 
the  scabbards. 

''  Bad  enough  sittin'  on  these  here  horse-shoes," 
said  Pete.  "  They  must  be  lightnin'  conductors,  I 
reckon." 

"  But  I  wouldn't  be  that  fellow  over  there ! "  de- 
clared Mr.  Simms.     *'  He's  getting  the  wust  of  it." 

"  He  shore  is,"  murmured  Chet,  as  if  aghast. 

They  watched.  Phil  was  fascinated.  He  wanted 
not  to  look,  but  he  could  not  help  looking.  Small 
and  obscure  in  the  storm,  this  Joe,  the  lame  man,  was 
being  made  the  sport  of  the  lightning.  It  appeared  to 
be  playing  with  him  as  a  cat  plays  with  a  mouse.  In 
a  rain  of  bolts  it  struck  all  about  him.  With  shoul- 
ders high  and  head  down  he  pushed  on,  slipping, 
toiling,  staggering,  recoiling  when  a  ball  burst  right 
in   front  of  him,   but  clambering  again   undeterred. 

Was  he  going  to  escape?    Was  he?    Was ?    And 

suddenly  rang  out  Mr.  Simms'  voice,  in  tone  high  and 
savage. 

"Got  him!    It  got  him!" 

They  all  had  witnessed;  only,  the  cattleman  and 
sheepman  had  spoken  the  first.  From  the  sky  above, 
where  even  now  flecks  of  blue  were  showing,  two  bolts 
had  descended  at  once;  midway  to  the  opposite  slope, 


THE    SMITING   OF   THE    LAME    MAN   291 

right  above  the  laboring  lame  man  they  had  joined, 
and  falHng  in  a  single  streak  had  enveloped  him  with 
a  coat  of  flame.  Even  yet  (he  had  made  such  marvel- 
ous progress)  might  it  have  been  thought  that  they 
had  struck  and  missed,  had  not  the  lame  man  stayed 
where  he  was — stayed  while  the  Circle  K  squad  held 
breath  and  watched  and  waited.  He  did  not  move ;  he 
made  a  black  and  white  spot  among  the  other  black 
and  white  spots. 

"He's  dead!"  gasped  Chet. 

Phil's  heart  beat  rapidly. 

Grizzly  Dan  bared  his  head,  and  passed  a  hand 
across  his  brow. 

''  The  wrath  of  the  Lord  is  sometimes  mighty  slow," 
he  said,  calmly.  "  But  it's  gcner'ly  powerful  sure. 
Now  we  got  to  find  that  other  man.  This  one  will 
stay  whar  he  is." 

The  storm  was  done.  That  had  been  practically 
the  last  flash.  The  blue  sky  was  everywhere,  again; 
the  cloud  enfolding  slopes  and  vale  melted  as  if  dis- 
solved by  the  sunshine  which  streamed  through,  and 
the  snow  amidst  the  rocks  began  to  vanish  in  a  steam- 
ing vapor. 

But  the  black  spot  remained,  sprawled  out  upon  a 
grayish  rock  which  glistened  with  wetness  in  the  rays. 
Picking  careful  way  down  the  slippery  descent,  the 
party  reached  the  bottom.  Pete  dismounted,  and 
went  hastening  up  again,  to  the  black  spot. 

"  Want  to  see  if  he's  playin'  possum,"  he  called 
back. 

Watching  narrowly,  they  bided  his  report.     He 


292  THE    CIRCLE   K 

half  circuited,  a  little  above,  and  approaching  slowly, 
scanned.    Then  he  came  plunging  down. 

"  That's  all,"  he  remarked.  "  He  wore  a  six- 
shooter  about  his  neck,  an'  that's  what  the  lightnin' 
hit  first,  I  reckon.  It's  layin'  there  with  its  handle 
burnt  plumb  off,  an'  the  barrel  busted.  The  ca'tridges 
must  have  exploded,  for  his  shirt's  torn  all  to  pieces 
in  front  an*  riddled;  an'  the  soles  of  his  shoes  are  off, 
too.  I  reckon  the  lightnin'  went  in  at  the  revolver 
an'  come  out  at  his  feet.  Anyway,  he's  considerable 
dead." 

Yes,  he  must  be.  Phil  recalled  that  he  wore  his 
revolver  in  a  Texas  sling  against  his  breast,  whence 
he  could  draw  it  and  fire  with  wonderful  quickness 
and  precision.     Mr.  Simms  could  bear  attest  to  that! 

"  I  knowed  he  war  dead,"  said  Grizzly  Dan.  "  Now 
for  'tother  man." 

He  turned  up  the  creek,  in  the  direction  whence  the 
lame  man  had  come.    They  all  followed. 

Clatter  of  hoof,  and  almost  collided  with  them  a 
loose  horse,  empty  stirrups  swinging,  bridle  lines 
dangling.  With  a  snort  it  would  have  turned, 
but  the  old  trapper  reaching  forward,  grabbed  a 
rein. 

**  That's  his  boss!"  exclaimed  Pete.  "Yes,  sir; 
that's  his  boss." 

"  That  other  crowd  may  have  him,"  suggested  Mr. 
Simms.    "  Hope  so." 

"  I  hope  he  isn't  hurt,  anyway,"  spoke  Chet  to 
Phil. 

And  Phil  nodded. 


THE    SMITING   OF   THE   LAME   MAN   293 

"  We'll  jest  ride  on  till  we  meet  up  with  those 
fellers,"  quoth  Grizzly  Dan.  "  But  'twon't  do  any 
harm  to  keep  an  eye  out  'long  the  trail,  both  sides,  in 
case  he  got  cached  away.  Too  steep,  though,  right 
through  here.  Blame  that  thar  rain  an'  snow;  they 
washed  out  the  signs." 

Yes,  through  here  the  slopes  of  either  side  were 
too  steep  for  anybody  to  have  climbed  and  hidden  a 
man;  but  Phil  and  Chet  kept  sharp  outlook,  right  and 
left,  for  any  possible  place.  Faintly  the  bridle  trail  led 
among  the  willows,  and  these  filled  the  narrow  passage 
between  creek  and  farther  bank. 

*'  Ought  to  be  meetin'  those  fellers,  hadn't  we  ?  " 
hazarded  Pete,  after  about  five  minutes. 

"  Hear  'em  now,"  declared  Grizzly  Dan,  suc- 
cinctly. 

So,  in  another  minute,  could  Phil.  There  was  sound 
of  hoof  striking  against  stone;  and  presently  there 
was  thud  of  trotting;  and  around  a  curve,  where  the 
little  gorge  widened,  suddenly  the  two  squads  were 
face  to  face.  Charley  the  Ute  was  foremost,  in  that 
second  squad.  They  must  be  tracking.  They  did  not 
have  the  professor. 

Both  squads  reined  up. 

"Where's  the  professor?"  queried  Mr.  Simms. 
"  We  got  his  hawss." 

The  sheriff  shook  his  head. 

"  Haven't  seen  him.  Thought  you  had  him.  We 
heard  you  shooting.  Where's  that  lame  man?  Did 
he  get  past  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Simms  smiled  grimly. 


294  THE    CIRCLE    K 

'*  Not  quite,"  he  said. 

"  Sure,  this  time,  arc  you  ?  "  grunted  Old  Jess. 

'*  Pete  knows.     He  inspected." 

Pete  grinned,  and  wagged  his  big  hat. 

"  Considerable  dead,  when  I  last  saw  him,"  he 
averred. 

"  Where  ?  "  demanded  the  sherifif. 

"  Back  a  ways,  up  on  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tain." 

"  But  we  didn't  do  it,  Ben,"  explained  Mr.  Simms. 
"  It  was  a  bad  job  taken  off  our  hands — and  a  bad 
job  well  done." 

''  Lightning,"  further  explained  Chet.  **  Grizzly 
Dan  shot  his  hawss,  and  he  was  climbing  in  the  rocks. 
They  were  magnet  rocks  and  you  ought  to  have 
seen !  " 

''  Oho,"  murmured  the  sheriff.  "  So  we're  at  the 
end  of  our  trail,  Charley.     Savvy?  " 

Charley,  who  had  been  listening  intently,  nodded. 

"  But  we've  got  to  have  that  professor,"  objected 
Mr.  Simms. 

"  There  are  two  bosses,  along  here,  so  far,"  said 
the  sheriff.  "  All  w^e  had  was  a  glimpse  of  some- 
thing, away  ahead  of  us,  and  we  fired  a  shot  for  warn- 
ing and  to  start  things  going.  But  we've  been  fol- 
lowing a  trail  of  two  bosses.  Seems  as  though  those 
two  bosses  are  accounted  for  now." 

"Wall,"  remarked  Grizzly  Dan,  easily;  **  we  have 
the  hoss,  but  you  didn't  get  the  man.  So  I  reckon  he 
oughter  to  be  right  in  here  somewhars.  Spread  out, 
for  sign." 


THE    SMITING   OF   THE    LAME   MAN   295 

As  told,  the  little  gorge  of  the  Cinnamon  had  here 
opened  to  form  a  small  park  between  flanks  more 
gently  sloping,  where  grew  some  buck  brush  and 
where  were  scattered  ledges  and  boulders.  At 
Grizzly  Dan's  words  Phil  pricked  Pepper  and  rode  to 
the  right,  just  for  luck,  while  Charley  and  the  old 
trapper  moused  about  for  sign,  and  the  others  ob- 
served their  movements.  And  he  had  not  ridden 
far  at  all — not  more  than  one  hundred  yards — 
when  propped,  half  reclining,  under  the  sharp  slant 
on  the  up  side  of  a  big  rock,  he  came  to  the  pro- 
fessor ! 

So  quiet  and  undemonstrative  was  the  figure,  that 
Phil  scarcely  could  believe  his  eyes;  but  the  figure, 
disturbed,  raised  its  head  and  looked  around  at  him 
observing. 

"  Why-— hello,"  stammered  Phil. 

"  This,"  addressed  the  professor,  amiably,  '*  is  a 
very  rare  specimen  of  fluorspar."  He  held  out  a  bit  of 
crystal,  which  he  had  been  scrutinizing  with  a  pocket 
magnifying-glass. 

''  But,  goodness  sakes,  professor!  Are  you  hurt?  " 
exclaimed  Phil.  He  whooped,  and  beckoned  for  the 
others.  Then  he  sprang  out  of  the  saddle.  *'  Can't 
you  get  up?  " 

''Not  very  well;  my  feet  are  tied,"  informed  the 
professor. 

"Couldn't  you  untie  them,  yourself?"  asked  Phil, 
hastening  to  the  knots. 

"  1  suppose  I  could !  "  admitted  the  professor,  some- 
what astonished.     "  Certainly  I  can.     That  never  oc- 


296  THE    CIRCLE    K 

curred  to  me.  You  see,  in  the  first  place  my  hands, 
too,  were  tied.  And  after  I  had  wriggled  them  free,  I 
got  hold  of  this  fluorspar  and  I  really  did  not  bestow 
much  thought  upon  my  feet." 

Phil  speedily  loosed  the  knots. 

"  But  did  you  hear  the  shooting,  or  shouting  ? 
We've  been  looking  for  you." 

"  I  did  hear  something,"  admitted  the  professor. 
He  beamed  upon  the  rest  of  the  company,  now  ar- 
rived and  curious.  "  Well,  well,"  he  continued,  stiffly 
arising;  *' here  we  all  are  again.  I'm  afraid  I  must 
have  created  quite  a  commotion.  You  see,  this 
desperado  who  captured  me,  before  I  knew  it,  yes- 
terday noon  (I  presume  that  he  wished  to  hold  me  in 
order  to  gain  immunity  for  something  that  he  had 
done),  made  me  travel  so  fast  and  so  steadily  during 
the  afternoon  and  early  this  morning  that  my  horse, 
not  being  properly  shod,  was  foot-sore.  Then  later 
this  morning,  when  he  knew  that  we  were  being 
pursued,  after  dismounting  me  he  tied  my  hands  and 
feet  and  placed  a  gag  in  my  mouth  and  stuck  me  under 
this  great  boulder.  Then  he  spurred  away,  with  my 
horse.  No  doubt  he  planned  to  hide  me  here,  for 
future  use.  I  managed  to  free  my  hands,  and  to 
remove  the  gag,  and  why  I  did  not  loosen  my  feet, 
also,  I  cannot  say.  So  I  stayed  here,  quite  uncom- 
fortable until  I  chanced  to  note  this  specimen  of 
fluorspar,  and  as  I  had  my  pocket  glass  with  me  I 
spent  the  time  very  pleasantly  and  profitably  examin- 
ing the  curious  phases  of  the  crystal.  I  heard  some 
gun-shots,  and  the  sound  of  hoofs,  but  I  was  not 


THE    SMITING   OF   THE   LAME   MAN   297 

certain  what  I  should  do  or  what  was  happening. 
I  really  was  thinking  more  upon  the  fluorspar  than 
upon  being  found.  But  of  course  I  knew  that 
somebody  would  come.  I  thank  you  all.  I  shall 
take  this  fluor-spar  back  with  me  and  put  it  in  my 
cabinet." 

The  party  were  so  relieved  to  find  him  safe  and 
sound,  and  were  so  dumbfounded  by  his  innocent 
explaining  (fancy  him  waiting  for  his  feet  to  be  un- 
tied! What  an  odd  man!)  that  in  silence  they 
watched  while  Phil  held  his  horse  and  he  clambered 
with  a  sigh  into  the  saddle. 

Then  Pete  spoke  . 

"  You  don't  get  out  o'  my  sight  again/'  he  scolded. 
"  I'm  goin'  to  night-herd  3aih  an'  day-herd  yuh, 
both." 

"  I  think  you'd  better,"  agreed  the  professor. 

"  The  man  with  the  limp  is  killed.  He'll  never 
bother  you  or  Cherry  again,"  announced  Phil,  as  they 
rode  down  again,  to  the  trail. 

"Dear  me,"  murmured  the  professor.     "How?" 

"  Lightning.    We  saw  it." 

"  How  terrible !  "  answered  the  professor,  vaguely. 
"Was  there  a  storm?" 

But  although  the  professor,  with  his  absent-minded 
way,  made  an  unsatisfactory  hero,  he  waked  up  to 
his  late  peril  when,  bringing  him  back  in  triumph, 
they  were  sighted  from  the  tent  by  Cherry  and  Miss 
Molly.    How  he  was  hugged  and  kissed ! 

"  I  had  no  idea;  I  had  no  idea,"  he  avowed,  through 
his  beard,  as  his  eyes  glistened  moistly  behind  his 


298  THE   CIRCLE    K 

spectacles,  and  Cherry  hung  upon  one  arm,  Miss 
Molly  upon  the  other.  *'  But  I  suppose  that  I  was  in 
some  danger." 

And  Miss  Molly  repeated  over  and  over: 

"  How  dreadfully  romantic !  " 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

BACK   TO   THE   LOWLANDS 

'^  It'll  be  an  'arly  winter,"  quoth  Grizzly  Dan. 
"  An'  if  you  don't  calkilate  to  get  your  sheep  snowed 
in  up  hyar,  you'd  better  be  movin'  'em  down." 

A  quaint  character  was  old  Grizzly  Dan.  He  was 
full  of  stories  and  expressions  of  by-gone  trapper 
days;  the  present  was  nothing  to  him,  he  lived  in 
and  loved  the  past,  and  never  was  tired  of  inform- 
ing that  he  was  with  Fremont  the  Pathfinder  and 
knew  Kit  Carson,  the  mountaineer.  And  he  cer- 
tainly was  wise  in  the  ways  of  the  wilds,  was  Grizzly 
Dan. 

Now  it  was  a  full  month  after  the  affray  when  the 
man  with  the  limp  had  met  his  end.  The  professor's 
party  had  moved  on,  for  the  lower  country  and  thence 
for  home  "out  east  in  Oklahoma,"  as  Pete  put  it. 
Cherry  had  proudly  borne  away  the  pelt  of  the  bear, 
given  to  her  by  the  old  trapper. 

"A  pore  pelt,  too,"  he  said.  "But  you  can  cut 
it  up  for  a  muff,  mebbe.  Time  for  b'ar  pelts  is  in  the 
fall  an'  'arly  spring." 

But  to  Cherry  it  had  been  a  beautiful  pelt;  and  to 
Miss  Molly  it  had  been  "  romantic,"  also.  They  had 
ridden  away — they  and  the  professor  and  Pete,  and 
the  sheriff  and  Charley  with  them ;  and  the  camps  had 

299 


300  THE    CIRCLE    K 

settled  back  to  the  routine  of  watching  over  the  fat 
sheep. 

Grizzly  Dan  had  stayed.  He  had  brought  over  his 
own  camp — which  was  only  some  blankets  and  skin 
robes;  and  had  constructed  a  kind  of  wigwam  or 
teepee,  out  of  boughs  and  branches  and  the  skins, 
among  the  willows  near  the  boys'  tent.  They  were 
glad  to  have  him,  to  vary  the  monotony  of  herding, 
days,  and  getting  supper  and  going  to  bed,  nights. 
Occasionally  he  would  mount  his  spotted  pony  and 
ride  off  and  be  gone  half  a  week,  "  jest  scoutin' 
'round,"  he  claimed;  and  when  he  returned  it  was 
always  with  some  new  story. 

"Why  an  early  winter,  Dan?"  asked  Phil. 

"  That  b'ar  was  puttin'  on  fat  already,  to  feed  off 
of  in  his  hole.  An'  these  hyar  conies  are  puttin'  away 
more  hay'n  ever  I  saw  before,  since  eleven  year  ago. 
When  animiles  act  this  how,  time  for  humans  to  take 
notice." 

Yes,  it  was  true  that  the  bear  had  been  unusually 
fat.  And  certainly  the  conies  (those  rat-like,  gopher- 
like little  chaps  inhabiting  the  rock  crannies)  were 
ever  on  the  stir,  all  day  long,  carrying  bristling  mouth- 
fuls  of  grass  and  weeds  into  their  hidden  nests. 

But  whether  old  Dan's  predictions  were  believed 
or  not,  Mr.  Simms  decided  that  it  was  time,  anyway, 
to  seek  the  lower  country.  Through  long  days  of  sun 
and  of  squalls,  here  high  above  town  and  valley,  river 
and  forest  and  mesa,  cropping  the  crisp,  tender  herb- 
age of  constant  spring  the  sheep  had  been  waxing  fat 
and  fatter.     Why,  those  wobbly  lambs  which  had 


BACK   TO   THE   LOWLANDS  301 

been  nurtured  so  carefully  when  they  arrived  on  the 
Black  Mesa,  now  could  scarcely  be  distinguished  from 
their  elders.  Little  did  the  flock  guess  that  following 
the  summer  of  peace  and  plenty  was  impending  a 
w^holesale  tragedy;  but  down  in  the  lower  country 
awaited  the  shipping  pens.  Perhaps  it  was  just  as  well 
that  the  flock  had  no  inkling  of  the  fate  ahead  for 
many  of  the  members.  The  drive  down  promised  to 
be  a  final  joy. 

Again  the  camps  were  packed;  and  again  the  Circle 
K  took  the  trail.  By  long  and  easy  descent,  through- 
out all  the  broad  eyries  of  the  high  plateaus  other  out- 
fits likewise  were  making  for  the  low  country,  the 
shipping  pens,  and  thence  the  winter  range ;  retreating, 
they,  in  good  order  from  the  advancing  snows  which 
began  to  sweep  down  in  earnest  from  the  peaks. 

In  truth,  Chet  and  Phil  and  all  the  Circle  K  were 
satisfied  to  make  the  change.  Perched  up  here  amidst 
the  sun  and  frosts,  the  great  expanse  of  rolling  low 
brush  and  of  crater  rock  and  ashes,  never  were  human 
beings  more  isolated,  and  it  seemed  to  Phil  that  town 
and  people  would  frighten  him.  And  yet  it  was  a 
little  hard  to  leave  this  free,  desolate  realm  to  the 
winds  and  drifts  of  winter.  He  felt  that  as  soon  as  the 
last  herder  had  disappeared  over  the  last  ridge,  Ptar- 
migan Flats  would  have  forgotten  all  about  them. 

But  gaily  caroled  Haney  the  Texan,  as  with  their 
band  he  and  Ford  led  the  way  down. 

"  Oh,  I  want  to  be  a  sheepman, 
An'  run  a  woolly  band  ; 
Some  wool  upon  my  whiskuhs, 
A  sheep-hook  in  my  hand ; 


302  THE    CIRCLE    K 

The  sage-brush  foh  my  pillow. 

The  blue  sky  foh  my  roof; 
An'  learn  to  talk  in  Baa-baa 

With  mutton  on  the  hoof!  " 

"  Yes,  suh ;  powerful  glad  to  day-herd  mutton  when 
it  don't  bite  me,"  he  declared.  "  But  I'm  shuah 
scyared  o'  smellin'  so  laike  a  sheep  that  caows  won't 
graze  where  I  walk.  Aftuh  I  get  down  Fm  gwine  to 
take  a  hair-cut  an'  a  bath,  an'  then  I'm  gwine  to  keep 
on  gettin'  lower  till  I'm  in  ol'  Texas.  Lots  o'  fine  land 
in  Texas,  foh  a  rancher.  Pity  the  pore  caowboy,  an' 
pity  the  pore  sheep-herder;  but  needn't  pity  the  rich 
rancher,  raisin'  hawg  an'  cohn-pone  an'  fried  chicken. 
Nevuh  want  any  moh  mutton,  me.  When  I  see 
mutton,  'fraid  I'll  say  '  Baa ! '  to  it.  " 

The  aspens  were  yellowing  by  the  nightly  frosts; 
the  scrub  oaks  and  the  sumac  were  turning  brown  and 
orange.  Day  by  day  as  the  downward  march  pro- 
ceeded, the  country  ahead  and  behind  on  either  hand, 
as  opened  the  vistas,  lay  spread  gorgeous  like  an 
Oriental  rug.  The  grasses  had  cured  to  a  dead  drab, 
and  were  heavy  with  seeds,  so  that  as  they  went  the 
sheep  fed  greedily. 

Grizzly  Dan  rode  a  day's  journey  with  the  boys; 
but  after  the  supper  he  prepared  to  mount  again  and 
return  to  his  camp  among  the  willows  up  on  Ptar- 
migan. 

"  I'm  restless,"  he  said.  "  Too  many  folks  about, 
an'  too  much  sheep  makin'  a  noise.  I  reckon  I'll  jest 
spend  a  few  days  in  quiet  high  up,  an'  then  I'll  make 
a  cache  for  myself  down  in  a  little  valley  I  know  of, 


BACK    TO    THE    LOWLANDS  303 

whar  the  deer  stays  all  winter,  an'  thar's  fodder  for 
the  hoss  critters,  an'  whar  I  can  be  right  comfort'ble. 
But  you  two  lads  come  out  'long  with  me  nex'  year, 
an'  I'll  show  you  some  country  an'  any  animile  from 
b'ar  to  beaver.  We'll  see  if  we  can't  get  whar  thar 
ain't  these  blame  sheep  eatin'  down  the  forage  an' 
spoilin'  'arth  an'  air.  We'll  make  one  last  big  ol'- 
time  hunt,  an'  live  like  white  Injuns." 

"/  shore  will,  if  dad'll  let  me,"  agreed  Chet,  his 
tanned  round  face  flushing. 

"  So  will  I,"  agreed  Phil. 

"  Wall,  you  drop  me  a  line,  'long  in  the  spring. 
Jest  *  Dan  Humphrey,  Placer  Valley  Postoffice,  Colo- 
rado.' I'll  get  it  when  I  come  in  after  supplies,  an' 
I'll  answer  tellin'  you  whar  I'll  meet  you.  'Bout  the 
middle  of  May  is  a  good  time  to  start  in  low  an'  work 
up." 

*'  We  will,"  they  promised. 

Without  another  word  Grizzly  Dan  climbed  upon 
his  spotted  horse  and,  long  rifle  in  hollow  of  left  arm, 
long  hair  veiling  his  shoulders,  in  his  buckskins  and 
moccasins  rode  away  at  trappers'  trot  through  the 
moonlight. 

It  was  still  four  days  to  the  railroad  and  the  ship- 
ping-pens. But  at  last,  with  the  ill-fated  sheep  destined 
for  the  butcher  Phil  rode  in  to  the  station.  He  must 
shake  hands  with  Hombre,  who  remained  with  the 
flock  reserved  for  the  winter  range  upon  the  Utah 
desert,  and  must  bid  him  "  Adios."  But  at  the  station 
he  was  to  part  with  Haney  and  Ford,  and  Mr.  Simms, 
Old  Jess  and  Chet;  and,  hardest  of  all,  with  Bonita. 


304  THE    CIRCLE    K 

For  it  seemed  a  shame  to  take  Bonita  away  from  tHe 
sage  and  the  open,  and  put  her  into  city  yard  and  city 
streets.     No,  that  would  not  do. 

"  You  can  keep  her,"  he  said  to  Chet.  "  I'll  lend 
her  to  you.    But  she's  an  awful  good  dog." 

"  She  shore  is,"  responded  Chet.  "  And  I'll  take 
care  of  her  for  you.  You  can  have  her  back  again 
whenever  you  want  her." 

"  But  you'll  have  to  come  and  get  her,"  decreed  Mr. 
Simms,  meaningly. 

"  Well,"  said  Phil,  "  I  will.  Maybe  we'll  take  her 
on  our  big  hunt  next  summer  with  Grizzly  Dan." 

The  train  whistled,  approaching.  He  was  to  leave 
on  it,  ahead  of  the  freight  by  which  the  sheep  would 
be  shipped.  The  empty  cars  for  them  were  standing 
waiting.  After  the  sheep  were  shipped,  then  it  was 
Texas  for  Haney,  Boston  for  Ford,  the  Utah  desert 
for  Hombre  and  Old  Jess,  and  town  and  school  for 
Chet,  with  his  father  to  guard  him.  But  for  Phil  it 
was  now  once  more  "  Adios  "  and  "  Good  luck,"  and 
"  See  you  again,"  and  then  the  train,  and  home, 
home,  home,  where  sheep  were  known  only  as  they 
came  upon  the  table  in  roasts  or  chops. 

He  must  shake  hands  all  around  again.  As  he  did 
so  he  suddenly  realized  what  an  odd-looking  crowd 
they  were — their  hair,  gray,  red,  tow,  brown,  and 
black,  shaggy  and  uneven  and  as  long,  almost,  as 
Grizzly  Dan's,  their  overalls  torn  and  faded,  their 
brogans  and  boots  scuffed  and  ragged.  Veterans  they 
were,  who  had  brought  the  Circle  K  sheep  safely 
through  from  birth  to  market.     Man  nor  beast  nor 


BACK    TO    THE    LOWLANDS  305 

weather  had  daunted  the  Circle  K,  and  he  felt  that 
they  all  had  won  sweaters  with  the  letter  upon  the 
front ! 

But  no  sweaters  were  needed.  Out  this  way  men 
did  their  duty  and  asked  no  special  reward.  Some 
had  the  duty  of  the  cow  range,  some  the  duty  of  the 
sheep  range,  and  there  were  deeds  and  honest  work  in 
plenty,  of  various  kinds,  but  of  one  quality.  A  man 
could  be  a  man,  wherever  he  was  put. 

He  shook  the  hands  that  gripped  his  earnestly  and 
warmly.  He  gave  Bonita's  silky  neck  another  squeeze 
and  her  sharp  muzzle  another  loving  stroke  or  two; 
and,  a  choking  in  his  throat  and  a  curiously  hot  mist 
in  his  eyes,  he  sprang  aboard — a  real  Western  sheep- 
herder  honorably  discharged  from  service.  The 
familiar  blatting  of  the  sheep,  in  the  pens,  followed 
him  as  a  farewell — for  he  could  not  look  back  to  see 
Chet's  wave  or  to  risk  the  reproachful  gaze  from  the 
puzzled  Bonita. 


FOURTEEN  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 

8Aug'55HJ 

inLy.5l955Ll' 

^B^iy^?r,r^=                                   Vn^^^r... 

YC  53273 


M13734 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


